


Hermione and the Divergence Point

by Usagi_Mana_chan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 124,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usagi_Mana_chan/pseuds/Usagi_Mana_chan
Summary: Cross-Posted from account from same name ff.net.  AU where an incident lands an infant Hermione in Saint Mungo's where a lonely twenty-one-year-old Snape makes the impulse decision to adopt her. The story follows both characters from Philosopher's Stone to Deathly Hallows, with more cannon divergence as Hermione grows older.*This is very long and gets darker as the kid characters get older. It should also be stated that the various romantic relationships happen when Hermione is older. Just throwing this out there I am NOT pairing father and daughter romantically. Nor am I pairing Hermione with any adult characters.
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!" Ren gasped pointing to the baby on the table. The same baby he had just put in her crib.

"I don't know!" Catherine groaned lifting their child off the open books. "Mummy needs to study, _please go back to sleep for the love of God!"_

"What were we thinking?" Ren looked at his fiancee and daughter in desperation. "We're seventeen..."

Ren Granger and Catherine Kirk, graduated top of their class and admitted to Oxford Pre-Med. No one saw this coming, least of all them.

Catherine was a first-generation Brit, and as the daughter of Jamaican immigrants, Desmond and Rose Kirk, she often felt the pressure to succeed. Since she was twelve she wanted to be a brain surgeon, and she had worked her way to it. Cat waited tables at her parents' restaurant, earned not one, but three scholarships. Everything she worked so hard for wasn't going to be thrown away by some stupid mistake at their year-eleven-ball.

Ren loved his daughter, of course he loved his daughter. How could he not? But he felt the same as his fiancee. He wanted to be a surgeon. Sure, he wanted children with Catherine someday, but it was clear Hermione would not be with them had they not missed the train to the clinic. They had changed their minds then and there, but there was no way to know if they made the right decision. He thought about his own mother's disappointment.

Like Catherine, Hana was a first-generation Londoner, her mother a Japanese immigrant and her father a Korean immigrant. Something that she would never let him forget. They risked everything not just to move to London, but to be together given the environment at the time. Hana felt immense pressure to succeed but never managed to be more than a secretary with the _Londoner_. His father, Hugo, being both white and London-born, never faced the same barriers, but he matched his wife's vigour in setting up Ren's future.

He imagined their disappointment and a knot formed in his stomach. He had worked so hard, how could he have mucked it up so completely? It'd been a long time, perhaps his parents had calmed down. Perhaps hers did too. They had a teleporting baby, he wanted support from someone who wouldn't call them crazy. Between school and Hermione, he couldn't remember the last time either of them slept through the night.

"When's your exam, Cat?"

She ran a hand through her thick brown curls and fixed her red-rimmed brown eyes on him. Her usually sienna skin paled and her bloodless lips wore thin from repeated chewing. The beautiful, vibrant and brilliant Cat he fell in love with had become a shadow of her former self. He knew he was not much better.

"Tomorrow," she sighed. "At nine o'clock. Though I won't be able to study if you don't finish that thought"

"Cat," he took the baby and kissed Cat's forehead. "I don't know...I love our daughter, and I love you. I just...I don't know."

"I don't know either..." she sobbed. "I wish I did! I thought I could do it all! I just want...No, I _can_ do this!"

" _We_ can do this. I don't have any exams, I can take care of her tomorrow. Get some rest."

"Okay... wait, is she cold?" Catherine touched her cheek.

"I don't know," he felt her other cheek. "She is a bit chilly. I'll take her to A&E tomorrow if she's still cold."

"Shouldn't we take her in now?" Cat bit her lip.

"The doctor said she's fine two days ago, Cat," he said, feeling as uncertain as Cat looked. "We don't want them thinking we're just paranoid young patents."

"And if it's serious?"

"Jesus, I don't know, Cat! I just...maybe we should...I" a knot formed in the back of his throat. "I don't know what to do..."

"Okay," Catherine inhaled sharply with unconvincing confidence. "You're probably right. Let's put her to bed then get some sleep ourselves."

* * *

Catherine couldn't sleep. Did she know everything that would be on her exam? What if she failed? She imagined crawling back to her parents with her mixed baby in her arms. She knew her mother didn't care, but her father had a more complicated relationship with that, she could blame Caribbean colourism for that. But they both would care that she was a failure. She imagined her days working in the Jamaican BBQ while Ren worked at his grandparent's Korean Take-away. Their lives would be miserable, a complete disaster. And Hermione's wouldn't be any better. How could she do anything for her baby if she couldn't fix her own life? She had to fix her own life...somehow, some way.

 _Hermione..._ Catherine should have took her to A&E...She was cold. Christ, she nearly died twice after she was born. Her little blue baby girl, barely breathing and brought into the world three months before she should have. They said it was a miracle Catherine could carry the pregnancy at all when she herself was in such poor health. But who had time to be in good health? Catherine's fate, no Catherine's family's fate rested in her not only becoming a neurosurgeon, but in her graduating top of her class. All the slurs, all the abuse her parents took, all the hardship Ren faced would then be worth it. There was no time for Catherine to care for herself.

But what good was she to her family dead?

Catherine took the few easy steps from her side of the bed to peer into their daughter's crib. To her relief, the strange teleporting bushy-haired child laid there, covered in more blankets than she remembered putting her to bed with. Her large brown eyes stared up at her expectantly. Much to Catherine's chagrin, Hermione had her very thick and curly medium brown hair, which at the moment seemed as big as her. She had her eye colour, a warm medium brown, but she had Ren's beautiful eye shape, double-lidded almond shapes on high cheek-bones that turned up at the corners. If she was happy to see Hermione inherited anything from her, it was her long eye-lashes. Her eyes would be stunning, if nothing else.

 _Are you honestly judging your baby on her appearance?_ Catherine rolled her eyes and reached down to touch her daughter. Her cheek, despite her blankets was still cold. Not the frigid chill that she had the first time they rushed her to hospital, but not as warm as she thought she should be. She decided to make herself a coffee and check back in on her. Ren had a point, the A&E doctors seemed to attribute think Hermione would recover, the pale cast to her skin would go away, her breathing was better, to the point that she cried as much as coughed now. They said colic was normal, and the cough would go away with the medicine. They were frustrated with the sleepless teen parents, and one even had the gall to suggest Catherine take a year off, she was still young after all.

If that was the way they wanted it, fine. She would make a coffee and study. If she finished her review of the peripheral nervous system and Hermione was still cold, Catherine would take her then.

She lit a candle to read by as not to wake Ren, the small one-room apartment was not ideal for their completing schedules. She put on the electric kettle and turned to the small round table that, like the rest of their furniture (with the exception of the crib), had a tenancy longer than their own. Where was her book? She left it open the table. She knew it!Where the hell...

 _Ren!_ He had a nasty habit of putting her things away when she wasn't done with them. There was a particular order to her disorganised mess, she knew where everything was, even if she couldn't explain it. But Ren had internalised his mother's desire for cleanliness, even to the detriment of their lives. She huffed a sigh and turned to the area where they had kept their bed. And she found her book...in Hermione's crib.

"How are you doing this?" she cried. "What do you want?"

"Cat?" Ren jolted out of bed, springing to his feet. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

Catherine ripped the book from the baby's arms. "What the hell is wrong with our baby? I swear she's...I can't be the only one to see this! Am I crazy?"

Hermione let out a wail between wheezing coughs. Weakly reaching for something. She wasn't sure if it was the volume or her.

"You're not crazy," Ren held Catherine before turning his attention to the baby. "Why does she have so many blankets? Cat, I know you said she was cold, but she could strangle herself with these."

"I didn't put them there!" Cat yelled.

"I suppose she did it herself?" he snapped back.

"Yes! Like the book! I don't know how!"

Ren looked at the book Catherine held and to the blankets in his arms. Relief washed over her as she saw his expression change and he addressed Hermione. "How are you doing this?"

Hermione only cried in response reaching up. Lights flickered a loud shattering rang from behind them. Catherine and Ren let out yelps of surprise and spun to see the remanents of Catherine's mug scattered on the dilapidated wood.

"What the hell is wrong with her!" Ren yelled.

"I don't know, Ren! I just..." Catherine turned to her daughter screaming. "If you can do that you can tell me what you want!"

Hermione still only cried in response, reaching upward once more.

The shouting continued. At this point Catherine didn't know who or what she was yelling at. Ren? Hermione? Herself? God? She loved Ren, she loved her daughter...why couldn't she just put the sleepless nights aside and figure out what she needed to do? She was supposed to be smart, and if she really meant to love and help her daughter, why couldn't she? She recognized the same frustration in Ren, but still shrieked at him and at her baby.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" a baritone voice shouted from the neighbouring apartment. "IT'S TWO-AM, PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

"Okay," Catherine breathed and picked up Hermione. "Let's just get her to the A&E. And maybe our neighbour CAN MIND HIS OWN DAMN BUSSINESS!"

"Cat!" Ren hissed grabbing their coats.

* * *

_This is not keeping a low profile,_ Severus thought as he waited for the girl in his bed to wake up.

"What..." the girl said groggily. "Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing with my baby?"

"You collapsed at your door," he explained with disinterest. "I was going to call 9-9-9, but you were conscious enough to insist no hospitals. When is your boyfriend home?"

"My _fiance_ will be home around five," she hissed.

"Fiance..." he laughed. "And you're what? Fifteen?"

"Seventeen," she rolled her eyes and rose from the bed. "And we happen to be adults in some cultures."

"Drink this," he said pointing to the revitalizing potion. "It'll help you regain your strength. I imagine food would too..."

He noted the girl's thin frame, her hair seemed to be the biggest part of her body. Her skin had a pale cast to it, but he imagined was supposed to be much darker. She was clearly anaemic, and the baby in his arms was not fairing much better. He wondered if the late-night crying was because her self-neglect extended to that of her child.

"And you're just helping us out out of the kindness of your heart?" she asked suspiciously.

"I suppose you would prefer if I 'mind my own damn business'?" he sneered.

"I'm sorry," she said eyeing the potion. "What on earth is this?"

"An old Chinese tonic," he lied. "You know how the land-lady likes to push her wares on us."

That was true. The old Chinese widow ran a market down stairs, but saw to her tenants like a mother-hen. Gifting him traditional medicines and nutrition tips, saying he was "too skinny and pale". He saw and heard the young couple receiving the same treatment. He was surprised she didn't claim the little girl for herself given her desire to declare herself a mother.

"And it works?" she scoffed.

"Surprisingly so," he lied again. "Your child's sick."

"I know," she sighed. "The doctors keep telling us she's just colicky, and her cough will go away but...why am I telling you this?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugged handing the little terror to the girl. "Drink that and leave. I won't have the land-lady thinking I'm some sort of pervert."

"You're what," she laughed. "four years at most older than me?"

"And an adult in _every_ culture," he retorted his eyes on the baby.

"Thank you for your help," she rolled her eyes and downed the potion. "How'd you get her to sleep so solidly?"

 _Sleeping potion, you silly muggle_. "As strange as it would seem, she can sleep if she's not being yelled at."

"You...You..." she seethed. "Thanks for the help. I'll leave you and mind my own business."

* * *

_Yelling again?_ He chose to hide among muggles in London, he could have stayed in Hogsmede, he'd be starting his position in Hogwarts in September, that would have been easier. But he held out hope that if he hid out among muggles he might find where Lily was hiding out. Come across something that wouldn't stand out to someone else. But that wasn't going to happen. He ruined his chances when he called her a mudblood all those years ago. Now James Potter was living his fantasy, a family with Lily. Something small stupid and foolish. And there was no guarantee those two weren't exactly like the shouting couple next door.

"If you two can stop for one night!" he pounded on the door.

To his surprise the door opened and a boy with messy dark brown hair a head shorter than him dragged him in by the arm. "Please tell me you're seeing this too!"

"What I see is a-" then he turned to see what the boy was talking about.

The bushy haired girl reached out to the crying baby on the floor while blankets, books and a single stuffed cat flew around her. The baby was magical...these two idiots might have been in over their head if the child was a muggle, but now he saw the panic for what it was.

"If I help you, you can't tell anyone!" he hissed.

The boy's black eyes widened, but he nodded, olive face drained in fear. "We'll do anything, just help us."

Severus drew his wand and made quick work of clearing the way. He picked up the crying baby and examined her. She was so tiny, so pale and fragile. He had no clue what was wrong with the crying and wheezing mess in his hands. The chance to puzzle her out was taken from him when the girl took her and clasped her to her chest.

"What the hell was that?!" she cried.

"Magic, and you'll do well to be quiet about it," he hissed. "For her sake."

"Did you just threaten my child?" she spat.

"None of this makes sense..." the boy said going to the girl's side. "Tell us what's going on."

He saw it. The three of them together, so young, terrified and desperate. But he knew he was wrong to assume they were like his own parents. As confused as they seemed, as sick as all three of them were, there was an undeniable bond between them. If he could get them through this, he didn't know if he would finally feel at peace for his mistakes, or if the jealousy would rob him of that.

"You might want to sit," he said pointing to the table piled high with notes and diagrams. "It's a lot to take in."

"So magic is real, and our daughter is a witch?" Ren coughed. "This can't be happening..."

"How can she even be a witch?" Catherine asked. "Ren and I are...what did you call us? Muggles?"

"No one knows why some are born magical and some aren't," he said. "But there's no denying what she is. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can work with her abilities."

"What she is..." Catherine looked at her daughter. "Our daughter isn't some kind of freak!"

_You're a freak, Lily..._

"I never said she was a freak!" he snapped. "She's gifted and you should be proud to have a child like her! If you can't appreciate that you should seriously consider surrendering guardianship to someone who will!"

Catherine swore and rolled her eyes. "Calm down, I was upset about your words. I can accept she is..."

"A witch," he finished after a long pause. "And her acting up is likely tied to her illness. Everything you described sounds like she needed attention. Your muggle doctors have failed to diagnose her and you've been ignoring her in favour of your schooling."

"That's unfair!" Ren said taking his eyes off the baby for the first time. "We've been doing everything we can for Hermione!"

"Are you?" he said pointedly. "Would she say the same?"

The two looked at each other then at their daughter. Silence pervaded, even the baby shut up for the time being. A knot formed in his stomach as the moment became overwhelmingly sentimental. He could see tears well up in their eyes. The discomfort only intensified when Catherine looked up at him.

"What can we do now?"

"I'm not asking you to give her up. Just to do what's best for her."

"And what if giving her up is what's best for her?" Catherine choked.

"Will it be better if she's raised by people like her?" Ren asked eyes fixed on his daughter.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Plenty of muggles raise witches and wizards that turn out fine. I just want to take her to a magic hospital. That is all."

* * *

"The child's name, sir?"

Severus didn't ask for the muggles' last name...he wished he had, but then again he didn't want the wrong people knowing where he had been spending his time, or who he had been helping.

"I found the poor thing," he replied. "Can you help her?"

"We're going to have to regrow poorly developed portions of her lungs," the healer told him. "She'll have to stay overnight."

"Of course," he said eyes on the girl. "I'll return for her then."

"You?" the healer eyed him. "If you found her we should send out aurors in the area you found her. Someone might be missing their child."

The healer was a old woman half his size, but he felt her gaze burn through him. He made more of a mess than he expected. "I found the girl while I was leaving a late-night muggle take-away. Chinese, I think."

"I see," she sighed. "That describes quite a bit of London."

A round of questioning later and the auror investigating him determined no one reported a child missing. If no one claimed her after the hospital hold she would be given to a wizard orphanage. He left still unsure if he did the right thing.

* * *

"She'll be fine," he told the young sleepless couple.

"Thank God," Ren sighed. "And this will be it?"

"I think so," he said before noting the two had been hunched over books. "You both know it's July...?"

"If we both take courses during the summer we can graduate in two years instead of four," Catherine said meekly. "We'd both be surgeons before Hermione starts school."

"And keeping busy helps," Ren admitted looking up from his own book. Tired tear-filled eyes reminded him that these were literal children. "We're out of our depth, but we've always been good at this..."

"At least you can admit it," Severus backed up, uncomfortable with the admission. "Have you decided what you will do?"

"We did talk about it," Catherine inhaled sharply holding her daughter's toy to her. "If we took the year, we could go back. We'd both be on track and still be able to give Hermione the attention she needs. Hell, if we waited for her to be older we could finish pre-med and become dentists...it'd be something."

"We'd do whatever it takes to ensure she's happy and healthy." Ren said. "We love our daughter...we want what's best for her. Even if it means..."

"The disgust with which you said dentists makes me question it," he said coolly. "If you sacrifice your own happiness for her, can you honestly say you won't grow to resent her?"

"Of course not!" Catherine hissed. "We love our daughter. We want what's best for her!"

"And is this truly what you think is best for her?" he replied calmly. "Look around you. Look in the mirror. You two are falling apart. How can you take care of her when you can barely take care of yourselves? And can you honestly say you will never have another meltdown if she uses magic again?"

Silence pervaded. The two weighed their options and Severus thought about the little girl, sedated and alone while healers fixed what their muggle doctors were too late to. He was doing what was right. No amount of tear-filled pleas would convince him otherwise. She would stand a chance in the orphanage. If the three of them kept as they were, all three of them would be dead before September.

"You would find a family for her?" Catherine choked after minutes of silence. "I trust you about as far as I can throw you...but you're right."

"Cat!" Ren gulped. "I thought we talked about this..."

"But what happens if she gets sick again? What if doctors can't help her?"

Ren bit his lip and gripped Catherine's hand. "They can save her?"

"Yes."

"We'll do what's best for her," he sighed.

Doing the right thing didn't feel right when he left the apartment with the couple in tears. He debated on erasing their memories, but too many knew about the child. It was better if they said they gave her up for adoption. Details were unimportant there.

* * *

"Are you sure about claiming her?" the healer asked.

He didn't plan it. But when he came to check on her, a healer placed her in his arms and something happened. His heart swelled as she looked up at him. Had anyone ever trusted him as much as that child did? The tiny hand wrapped around his finger sent a pleasant warmth throughout his body. He couldn't explain it, but some naive part of him felt as though he was given a second chance. He had messed so much up, but here was this tiny being totally dependent on him. He let so many down, but he could do right by her.

Perhaps it was selfish, but the child would benefit.

"You'll have to name her."

He didn't know how old exactly she was, but he could tell she was nearly a year old. She was probably used to the name her birth parents gave her. Hermione was a nice name, and he knew the temptation to name her Lily was too great if he didn't honour that. That would not only reveal too much, but it would be unfair to her.

"Hermione," he cooed still unsure what possessed him."It's alright, love, Daddy's got you."

She looked up at him in response, blinking away tears. He wondered if she would remember her muggle family and how long she would.

"You'll grow into it, little one," he didn't know if he meant her name or his guardianship.

He left Saint-Mungo's that day with Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape as his daughter and reassured himself that this was the best decision for both of them.


	2. Early Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of Snape raising Hermione until she's nine. Deals with his fears, and Hermione trying to grow up in Hogwarts with no children her age and her (to Hermione) mysterious origins.

Dumbledore let Severus raise the girl at Hogwarts to allow him to continue both his roles as a teacher and within the Order. Any gratitude he felt at his generosity was tempered by the constant frustrations with the other staff.

"Oh my!" McGonagall cooed over Hermione. "How old is she?"

"A year," he said clasping her to his chest. "Old enough perhaps to feel objectified by the constant crooning I'm sure."

"Oh come now, Severus," McGonagall scoffed. "She doesn't seem unhappy."

"She's a year old," he reminded her. "She can't really tell you can she?"

"Children are so sensitive to messages from beyond!" Trelawney said. "You should hone her skills while she's still young."

"I thought our energy clouded your third eye," Severus grumbled.

"But I have to think about what's best for the child!"

"I believe that's my job," he hissed.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I did warn you, Severus."

"I didn't expect a room filled with adults to treat a child like a pet. I thought the point of this was to simply tell them all that Hermione would be living with me."

"Don't blame them for wanting to meet her. They'll be spending the next seventeen years with her too," Dumbledore noted.

"She's nearly a year-old, headmaster," he said. "She's not ready for such a fuss."

"Is it she's not ready or you?" Dumbledore asked.

To answer for herself, Hermione burrowed her face into Severus's shoulder, shying away from Dumbledore's touch.

"You have a very empathetic little girl," Dumbledore observed.

He didn't know how true that was. She had picked up on her birth parents' stress easily and when he himself was uneasy Hermione would attempt to comfort him. But he was certain right now that she had felt the same way he did about this welcoming.

"Did you say nearly a year?" Sprout asked. "When's her birthday?"

 _I never asked..._ He hesitated holding his child closer to him.

"Let's see the child," Trelawney approached the two of them.

Hermione locked eyes with the bug-eyed woman wrapped in shawls before turning to him with teary brown eyes. He noted as Trelawney drew closer Hermione returned to burying her face in his robes.

"There's something of September about this child."

"You're right about something," he said. "She turns one on the first of September. A very busy day indeed, so, unfortunately, your efforts are best placed elsewhere."

_Did you just make up a birthday for Hermione so no one would acknowledge her? She'll never know..._

* * *

"The instructions were on the board, Mr. Duke," Severus groaned.

"Sorry, Professor," the small Gryffindor muttered.

"It's your classmates you should apologize to. This abysmal potion cost them five points."

"Thanks, Daniel!" the class of first years hissed.

"I can make it more, Gryffindors," he responded.

That shut the lot up. He turned to Hermione who sat very still on his desk. He thought this would be a disaster, but the little one fared much better in the classroom than she would in the care of Hagrid or house-elves. Something he was advised to do, but she was fine. Even around the bumbling idiots meant to make sorry excuses for potions.

"I don't think so, little girl," he whispered picking her up before she got into the inkwell.

Hermione's lips formed a thin line and she looked down. Obviously frustrated to have her plans foiled.

"Mr. Duke will try again and we'll all stay here until he gets it right."

A wave of complaints filled the room. Cries of injustice echoed through the dungeons before the noise bothered Hermione enough to justify her own complaints.

"SILENCE!"he roared.

The lot of them shut up once more and he regarded the twenty first-years staring at him in shock. Hermione, too, fell silent staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes and pointed to the door."The rest of you may go. I swear there's a dolt like Duke in every year."

"This is the third time now?" Severus asked hoovering over the boy. "We're not getting any younger, and I do believe Hermione will be graduated before we're finished here."

The boy picked up the pace. He watched as Duke nervously dumped ingredients to the cauldron and refrained from telling him when he dumped the wrong things in until he grabbed far too much lacewood. "Wait, Duke, don't-"

But it was too late the cauldron combusted and smoke filled the room. His eyes filled with smoke, stinging as he reached for Hermione. His heart leapt to his throat as he heard thump close to his feet. Reaching through the smoke, blindly he grabbed her and the boy dragging them out of the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" he coughed.

"I- is she bleeding?"

He examined her finding that she was indeed bleeding, she had hit her forehead off the corner. "Dear God, Hermione!"

She didn't respond. Her eyes closed and body limp. He shook her gently trying to urge her to wake up. Was this it? She was barely a year-old and she was killed by some idiot who was too lazy to measure? He had promised to do better by her. Was she better off with the muggles? "Hermione!" He shook her again, less gently. "Come on, dear, it's time to wake up."

He came to his senses and ran to the hospital wing.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey gasped.

"Is she okay?!" he shouted shoving Hermione into her arms.

"Daniel Duke told me about the incident. You need to be examined too. Lie down."

It was a miracle, both he and the stupid boy were absolutely fine. It was Hermione he was worried about. Did she inhale too much smoke? She had her lungs regrown, they should be fine, but where she was so small...He demanded to know what was going on with her.

"She's fine." Pomfrey said placing her in his arms. "She had a concussion. You shouldn't have panicked."

He eyed her chest rising and falling, her closed eyes, tears caught in her long brown eyelashes. How could she look so peaceful after her injury? He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, a very tiny scar formed above her right eye. Barely perceptible, but a mark of his own failures of a father. The boy's incompetence was easy to blame, but he shouldn't have had her there.

"I can't tell you if it's from hitting her head or being shaken afterwards. Were you trying to rouse her?"

"Yes, did I..." he stared at his daughter. "Will she be okay?"

"She will," she said. "If anything happens again, bring her here immediately. It could have been much worse."

 _Could have been much worse_... Severus wondered how things might have turned out if he hadn't come to his senses when he did. After everything his own parents put him through, how could he hurt his own child? His little girl could have been seriously hurt, and all because he panicked. Something he was not prone to doing. How could his composure leave him at such a crucial moment? He then thought about every time he was tempted to silence her in that fashion. Sure, he never hurt her, but would he do it now? No, he only shook her to revive her...It was still wrong. He couldn't mess this up. She was all he had.

"Maybe you can send her away until she's older?" she suggested. "This isn't a place for a baby."

"No, I'm all she has," he said. "We'll just have to be more careful."

* * *

"Really?" Hermione gasped.

"Libby swears it's true, Miss Hermione!" the house-elf Libby crossed her heart. "They says there's a spider the size of a carriage in the forest! Eats men it does!"

"But that's not as scary as the creature in the chamber of-"

"That's enough stories for today," Severus said scooping up a flour-covered Hermione. He brushed the flour off her nose and cheeks with his thumb."I don't expect you did any reading or writing today?"

"Yes, I did!" she dug a piece of paper from her pocket before presenting a toothless grin. "I finished _Spelling Before Spelling_ and started writing down stories of the half-elves."

The charcoal smudged, but the messy scrawl was impressive for a four-year-old child. He would go over it with once they got to his quarters. "I see, but it seems you also did some baking?"

"Maybe..." she said casting her gaze to the floor.

"Maybe," he sighed. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your break because there's plenty to do this afternoon."

Later that afternoon a now clean Hermione sat on his desk practising her letters with a quill. Severus would look up every now and then to look at her progress before returning to his marking. She had more control with the charcoal, but her tendency to touch her face while in thought made it a poor choice. The quill and inkwell proved as messy an endeavour. Though she was beginning to get the hang of it. Simple words and sentences were legible, that was all he could hope for at this age. He silently noted that before gathering Hermione's hair behind her shoulders.

"Hermione Elizabeth," he said. "You're going to make a mess if you get your hair in the ink."

"Sorry, sir," she replied.

"Just pay more attention," he patted the top of her head.

Minutes passed in silence and Severus had just finished the last of the fourth year papers unimpressed with the Ravenclaws' self-satisfaction in their long bibliographies. For a house meant for the wise, many seemed afraid to state an original idea. Honestly, so many of the students seemed bereft of ideas. He wondered why his students all seemed to put forth only the minimal effort required. His thoughts were interrupted by the snapping of a quill.

"Shit," Hermione whispered staring at the broken blade.

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape," he snapped. "You watch your damn language!"

"English...?" she squeaked. Her large brown eyes stared at him as she recoiled backward.

She was four. The desperate doll-like eyes moistened and her olive skin paled staring at him in fear. It was clear she had no idea what she did wrong.

"The word you just said is a very bad word," he explained.

"But you say it all the time," she cast her eyes at her dangling barefeet.

 _Well, shit,_ Severus thought. "And when you're a grown-up you can say whatever you want. Until then you don't get to say that word."

Hermione glanced up at him with her eyes but her head down, her shame seemed to go away, but he could sense the caution in her voice. "When will I be a grown-up?"

Severus couldn't help but smirk at this. He placed his hand on the top of her head leaned inches from her face. "That will be a _very, very, very_ long time from now, my girl."

"Bullocks," she sighed with a dramatic eyeroll.

"Are you testing me, little girl?" he forced himself to keep his voice even.

"What?" she asked.

"Okay," he sighed. "New rule! Don't say any word you hear Daddy or any other grown-up say under their breath."

"Yessir," she nodded. "What about-"

"Or students!" he added. "Deal?"

"Deal."

Severus waved his wand and repaired Hermione's quill. He then took her little right hand and positioned it around the quill. "Try holding the quill like this. You'll have more control over it and you'll be less likely to break it."

* * *

Hermione stared out the window watching the students milling about above her. Younger students played chase and older ones simply sat around in the sunshine talking. She yearned to lay on the grass and loved the idea of soaking up the sunshine. The closest she got was when her father or Hagrid took her out to help harvest plants. Hagrid was nice enough to let her play with his dog, Fang, and watch creatures in the forest. Until her father found out that was.

"Are you kidding me, Hagrid?!" he shouted. "Do you think the forest is even remotely safe for a six-year-old? She could have been hurt...or worse. What the hell were you thinking?"

And so started Hermione's term in their living quarters. She turned her attention to the book in her lap. She wondered how many times she had read the Dumbledore's old copy of Beetle and the Bard. Her attention turned back to the tiny drawing at the top of the title page. A triangle with a circle inside it divided in halves by a verticle line. She felt it meant something, but she didn't know what.

"Do you know what that symbol means?" she asked her father when she first opened it.

"Just a silly doodle the headmaster drew, probably when he was your age." he dismissed. "Why don't you read the first story to me?"

She couldn't deny her father had a gift for diverting her attention. He was an expert at it. She resented it, but had to assume there was a reason for it. Which only made her want to know the meaning behind the symbol more. The books she had access to had said nothing of the symbol. Though most of the books in their living quarters were either children's books or books she was not allowed to touch. When she did, all she found were books on spells, charms and potions. Often with her father's messy scrawl in the margins. Some of them were difficult to read, and it wasn't like she could ask for help in decoding the words. He grew suspicious when she had a nightmare that was eerily close to an illustration in one of those books.

"How the hell did you get in the windowsill?" her father said.

"Dad?" she scrambled to face him and jump to the floor. "You're early."

"I wanted to check on you," he caught her before she hit the floor. "Thank Merlin for that. Did an eight-foot climb and jump seem safe to you?"

"I do it all the time," she admitted. "I like to watch the students...Maybe if I was allowed outside-"

"If you actually interacted with those students you'd know why I can't have you running around with them," he knelt down to her eye level. "They are incredibly cruel to those who are different and smaller. A six-year-old is both. Do you understand?"

"Yessir," she sighed.

"I know this must be very frustrating," he placed a hand on the top of her head. "But I'm just doing what's best for you. I will always keep you safe. That's a promise."

"From what?" she asked.

"From everything that could ever harm you," he kissed her forehead. "I love you very much, dear."

"I love you too, Dad," she said hugging him. "But-"

"Ah, ah, but nothing, love," he pressed a finger to her lips. "Father knows best after all."

* * *

"Very good, Miss!" Libby exclaimed hugging Hermione.

Hermione's face flushed and she covered her face with her hair to hide the sheepish smile. "Thanks."

The house-elf stayed with her during the days. She imagined her father chose Libby because she was literate in both English and French from her previous masters' assignments. Libby not only tutored her in French and English, but told her stories of her past. Libby had spent the day going over wizarding history, something she was very good at given her two-hundred years of service. She also secretly taught her Elvish and Goblin, something she was happy to do.

"Libby is very pleased with Miss, indeed!" Libby smiled. "A very good memory for readings!"

"I like reading," she shrugged standing. Hermione now stood a head taller the tiny big-eyed house-elf. She had vague memories of Libby towering over her. "It's something that I'm good at...it might be the only thing I'm good at."

"Miss Hermione is very good at languages and mathematics!" Libby assured her. "And riddles!"

"You don't need to reassure me, Libby," she said putting her book back on the shelf. "I know about magical contracts...heaping praise on me is beyond what you're asked, and has to be hard for you. I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend you like me."

"But Libby does like Miss Hermione," Libby said taking her hand. "Miss Hermione is very kind to Libby."

"But you have to tutor me..." she sighed. "Tell me, Libby, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do?"

Libby paused a moment staring at her with wide brown eyes, bat-wing ears dropped to her thin cheeks and before averting her gaze. "Miss has asked Libby a very inappropriate question." she gulped. "Miss shouldn't ask house-elves such questions!"

"I'm sorry, Libby," Hermione pulled her hand back and stared at her feet. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Libby's face relaxed and she smiled. "Miss Hermione should just be more careful of questions she asks."

"Thank you, Libby," her father said appearing at the table. The man was surprisingly quiet and often seemed to appear from nowhere like an oversized bat. "What did you go over today?"

"Libby reviewed chapter 3 in _Magical and Mundane History of the British Isles,_ did multiplication tables and divisions and food words in French. Miss Hermione did very well when Libby quizzed her," she proudly presented him with the papers.

Why was she so proud? Libby was too smart to play nanny and kitchen maid, and she was too sweet to be enslaved. How could she act like some proud teacher or parent when she had no choice in the matter. Hermione's guilt swallowed her. If Hermione had just stayed put Libby wouldn't have to put up with her.

"Libby will see you tomorrow after breakfast, Miss," she said. "Have a good night."

After Libby vanished from their living quarters her father turned to face her. He leaned over her, black eyes staring through her, his nose centimetres from her face and greasy black hair nearly brushing over her. "I wonder, exactly what inappropriate question did you ask her?"

Hermione shrank in her spot, folding arms around her and bringing her tense shoulders to her ears while letting her hair fall over her body. She wanted to disappear, but found her courage and straightened herself, meeting his gaze. Whatever he would yell at her couldn't be worse than anything poor Libby or any other house-elf had been through.

"I asked her if she could do anything she wanted, what she would do," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he sighed in relief before sitting beside her.

He was always so unpredictable. She was certain she had angered him, but now his expression was calm, if not greatly relieved. Hermione never knew what to expect from him, he was so easy to anger, but he could also be gentle and warm with her. She wondered if she would ever know where she stood with him.

"What did you think I asked her?" she asked.

"That doesn't matter right now," he picked her up and placed her on his knee. "Why did you ask her that?"

 _It matters to me,_ she thought. Instead she let it go and turned her head to face him. "I've been reading about the history of wizards and house-elves. I know how magical contracts work. I-" she sighed and looked at her hands.

"You...?" he said brushing her hair out of her face.

"Libby and all the other house-elves are slaves!" she cried. "Simply because they're house-elves they're forced to work, magically bound to do whatever their masters ask. No one ever asks them what they want. They watched me in the kitchens because they had to, they clean up after everyone without a word of thanks, and poor Libby...She had no say in the matter, you just got to choose a literate house-elf and now she's stuck with me!"

"My silly little girl," he smiled wiping her cheek with his thumb. "I know it doesn't seem fair, and it isn't. If we lived in a perfect world they would be as free as you or me, but we don't. House-elves are very proud creatures, and asking if they are happy makes them think you don't think they're doing well."

"But that's not what I meant by it!"

"I know, love," he said. "But centuries of servitude-"

"Slavery."

"Don't interrupt grown-ups, Hermione," he warned. "Anyway, they've been in their lot for a very long time, and many of them can't imagine life another way. Sometimes imagining how life could have been is very painful, so they don't. Mattering to their masters is all they can hope for."

"Will that ever change?" she squeaked.

"I hope so," he smiled. "But it won't be in our life-times. It's something they'll have to figure out for themselves."

"But that's not fair!"

"Life's not fair," he sighed. "All we can do is learn to live with it."

"Yessir," she sighed. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I can do all the work myself," she said. "It's bad enough Libby has to do so much. I'm extra, and I feel bad that she has to pretend to like me."

"She's not pretending, Hermione," he assured her. "I went to the kitchens to look for someone to look after you and Libby volunteered. Don't go getting a big head, but she said that she missed looking after you and would be honoured if I chose her. She said you were such always such a sweet girl and she would do anything for you."

"Really?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"If you want you can ask her yourself and command her to be honest. She'll be magically compelled to tell the truth."

"No," she said thinking of Libby. "I don't want to force her to do anything."

* * *

"There you are," Severus groaned.

The little girl huddled under the table was barely visible beneath her mass of brown curls and the massive volume in her lap. She closed the book with an eyeroll. "I thought you said I was allowed to go about the castle freely?"

"I believe the exact words I used were with an adult," he snarled. "And don't roll your eyes."

"Doesn't Madam Pince count?" she asked.

"She would if she were here," he pointed at the ground. "Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape, get out from under there _now_!"

"Yessir," she obliged looking around at the darkening library. "Where is she?"

"At supper," he examined her, relief and anger warring inside him at her unharmed appearance. "It's the sorting ceremony and the library is closed. Something you might have noticed if you weren't cowering beneath a table."

"But you're the one that said that I-" she protested.

"I've had enough of your cheek, little girl," he yelled. "This is clearly a privilege you aren't ready for! I was worried sick! Well, it's not something I have to worry about anymore, because you, young lady, are _grounded_!"

He watched the silent solemn child put away the volumes wondering if she even finished the volumes she spent all afternoon and evening reading. Such a voracious reader, yet the habit didn't keep her busy enough to keep from trouble. He wondered what else could keep a bored child from trouble. "We're not getting any younger," he commented as she pushed a chair to a shelf and stacked a number books on it.

She struggled on her tiptoes, the books shifting beneath her weight. He wondered if one of them might fall off the chair. It was a short fall, but what if she landed on her head again?

"Are you so determined to destroy yourself?" he snapped lifting her off the precarious perch. He waved his wand and everything was as it once was.

Later that night Severus found Hermione curled up in her bed reading by the dim light of the glow-globe set on her bedside table. Most parents would be proud he imagined at their child's nose always stuck in a book. But Hermione buried herself in whatever she could read not just to occupy herself, but to spite him. After everything he had been through it irked him that some little girl's ire upset him so much. He used to be her world and now she gave him the cold shoulder?

"You'll ruin your eyes," he said sitting next to her. "What are you reading anyway?" his eyes scanned the newspaper. " _The Daily Prophet?_ "

"What are Death Eaters?" she asked in a small voice.

A knot formed in his stomach. How to explain that to a child... How much did she know? The headline read _Suspected Death Eaters Interrogated. How Many Are Hiding in Your Community?_ He took the paper and folded it, setting it aside before drawing her closer. "It's nothing you have to worry about. How does a six-year-old get a hold of the _Daily Prophet?"_ he asked.

"Seven," Hermione muttered.

 _Shit, you literally chose her birthday and forgot it!_ He sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Either way, this is not something I want you reading right now. It won't do you any good."

"Yessir," she sighed.

"I imagine that article left you with a lot of questions," he said brushing her hair out of her face. "You're not old enough for the answers to a lot of those questions. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her wide eyes and her two front teeth digging into her bottom lip telegraphed both her concern and her curiosity.

"All you need to know is that you're safe," he said touching the faint scar on her forehead. "And what did I tell you about keeping you safe?"

"That you will always keep me safe?"

"And I will never let any harm come to you."

Hermione burrowed into his chest and threw her arms around him. "Dad?"

"Yes...?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course, love."

* * *

"How old are these books?" Hermione coughed pulling a dust-covered volume from the shelf. "Some of these are older than me, Dad."

"My dear, every book in this cupboard is older than you," Severus said. "In fact, most of them are older than me."

"Really?" she turned from the ladder in amazement.

"You know what, Hermione," he sighed. "We can discuss age when you have at least one decade behind you."

"Why do I feel like you'll change that requirement next year?" she called down to him.

"Focus, little girl." he chastised. "It's been a good while since the cupboard's been cleaned out. Some of them may come apart at a touch."

"Yessir," she sighed before brandishing a particularly moth-eaten volume. It fell apart at its spine, what pages were left fell to the base of the ladder.

"Will you be careful?" he snapped gathering the pages. "Last thing I need is for you to fall and destroy the shelves."

"Yessir," she sighed.

Hermione loaded her arms with a stack of books and descended the ladder. She got to the third wrung when a sudden crack came from beneath her foot. She dropped the books and tried to grab the sides. A flash of brown and navy fell plummeted the near ten feet. Severus grabbed his wand and caught her in mid-air. She stared at the ground and gasped before meeting his gaze. He gently lowered her before rushing to her side.

"I believe I told you to be careful," he sighed cupping her face in his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed before turning to the cupboard. "Don't think I can say the same for the ladder...or the books."

"I've been meaning to replace that blasted thing," he said placing a hand on the top of her head. "Only so many times I can repair the rungs before the wood is done."

"Really?" she knelt to the floor and gingerly picked up the books.

"If you only learn one thing from me," he knelt to her level. "Magic can only do so much. Eventually, everything and everyone comes to an end, always."

Hermione's face softened, she titled her head and took his hand in her own tiny one. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He cleared his throat and lifted her off the ground. "Which is exactly why you need to be careful. I'm not losing you to some ladder mishap."

"Yessir," she nodded.

Perhaps nine was young for a lesson in mortality. But wasn't he doing her an even greater disservice if he didn't enlighten her to some of the harsher realities of the world? Sure, he could hide Death Eaters and more specific atrocities from her...but he wondered if she was ready for the world. Nearly eight years he sheltered her from everything he could. But what if she lost everything she ever loved when she grew up? Severus came upon her completely by accident, and if it wasn't for her, he would have nothing but the memory of a dead woman. Hermione was all he had, and he had no clue how to raise her. How often had he wondered if he was doing her justice? The idea that she might have been better off with the muggles gnawed at him daily. He wondered how much longer he could keep her safe without hurting her.

"Dad?"

"Hermione, there's something I need to tell y-"

A quick rapping on the door interrupted him. Unsure if he was relieved or frustrated he set Hermione down and answered the door to find a fuming McGonagall and a red-headed first-year Slytherin boy by the ear.

"What happened here?" he asked gesturing them inside.

"O'Malley simply thought it would be hilarious if Percy Weasley sprouted ears of corn from his ears!" McGonagall seethed releasing the boy.

"It was a harmless prank, I swear, professors!" O'Malley begged.

"Harmless?" she scoffed. "The boy's in the hospital wing!"

"And it's hardly your first offence," Severus noted.

"I was provoked-"

"Silence, boy," he warned before turning back to McGonagall. "I'll deal with the boy, thank you."

"Very well."

McGonagall left and he turned his attention to O'Malley. An awkward, thin boy stretched over a tall frame with pale freckled skin and flaming red hair that fell in ringlets passed his shoulders. The boy showed promise but seemed not to put the same efforts into his classwork as he did into his stupid schemes. The awkward boy was a target for bullying the past few months, earning him some pity from him. O'Malley spent the last chance pity bought him.

"You've had a very busy first term. Emmett Jackson and his little gang spent the last month with filthy words written on their foreheads," he counted. "Thomas Cromwell was petrified and covered in rubbish and dragged into the common room. You spiked Trevor Langdon's drink with a love-potion to have him madly pursue the Gryffindor seeker so you and the rest of the school could shout disgusting, homophobic slurs at them. That alone should have earned your expulsion. But then you circulate a pamphlet revealing nasty rumours about everyone in your year. You have spent every weekend in detention and you still found time to curse Matilda Banks' mouth shut. And now you've cursed Percy Weasley. Did I miss anything?"

"That's about it, sir," he said meekly.

"Oh, cheeky are we?" he seethed. "I don't think you understand the position you're in, boy."

"But, sir, I was-"

"Provoked? Do tell me what your excuse is this time! I could buy the rest of them. Your targets were cruel to you and the pamphlet was easy to ignore. But what moronic idea possessed you to attack Percy Weasley? The boy is pretentious to be sure, but hasn't done anything to harm anyone. Or are you telling me the boy is simply so hard to tack he's never been caught?"

"He said that I-"

"Oh, so the boy had the decency to speak to you and that earned him vegetables sprouting from his ears? It astonishes me you've failed to make any friends with that behaviour!" he laughed. "Has it ever occurred to you that _you_ were the problem? No, you're too wrapped in self-pity to imagine _you_ could possibly be doing anything wrong. You are just like those others you saw fit to punish. I've seen hundreds of boys like you in my time. Cruel and twisted, convinced the world owes them something."

"But, sir," O'Malley started. "They were harmless pranks!"

"Don't you dare interrupt me, boy!" he roared. "And I've seen enough 'harmless pranks' to know that is _never_ what they are! You have caused serious, irreparable damage. But no, certainly _you're_ the victim here. Not the other students you have sent to the hospital! Give me one reason I shouldn't expel you right now. It certainly isn't going to be strength of character or your abysmal academics."

The boy shrank his large blue eyes scanning the room, his face drained of any colour it once had. He was clearly scrambling for a reason. He opened his mouth but no sound escaped his lips. Severus had given the boy every chance now, and he was blowing this one last reprieve. No one would miss the likes of this child, and he would be relieved of the near weekly lectures and calls to action. His favouritism of his own house only went so far, and he was happy to be rid of the boy.

"The wand," he held out his hand. "Hand it over, Mr. O'Malley. You're done here."

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth agape. Paralysed, fear etched in his face. O'Malley was so pathetic in that moment that he almost felt sorry for him. He was about to ask for the wand again when he heard something drop. They both turned their attention to the girl they'd forgotten was in the room.

Hermione had dropped the books and simply stared at him. Her already large eyes grew to an even larger size, her mouth agape as she regarded him with disbelief. Eight years of raising her, but not once had she looked at him the way she was now. Was it fear of him or pity for the boy? Both? He couldn't know, but a knot formed in the back of his throat. Could he really expel him in front of her?

When Potter would attend he would get his chance to redeem himself. But Hermione was his second chance at a life worth living. She would never know that she saved him much more than the other way around. Could he strip O'Malley, who, if he were honest, reminded him so much of himself, of the same chance? No, not while his own second chance stared at him pleading for him not to.

"Today's your lucky day, O'Malley!" he snapped. "I've decided to give you another chance. Do _not_ make me regret it, because I promise you will regret it more than I do. Now get the hell out of my office!"

He obliged disappearing on the other side of the door within seconds. He didn't think he'd ever seen a student so quick to leave his office. Let alone a Slytherin. He hoped he was smart enough to keep his head down for the next six years.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" he sighed.

"No, sir."

* * *

"No, hit!" Hermione told George Weasley tugging on his sleeve.

"Fine," George shrugged. "Hit me."

Fred laid a duce of clubs on George's King of Hearts and Nine of Diamonds. "I guess you win."

"How did you do that, kid?" Lee Jordan asked.

"Kid?" she scoffed. "I'm two years younger than you!"

"Isn't she cute, Fred?" George pinched her cheeks.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed the twins' reclaimed muggle deck. "It's easy, there are 52 cards in the deck right?"

"Yes."

"Then there is a one in fifty-two chance of any card being in the deck. But when four cards are revealed the chances are bigger. Then you remember there are four of each card. So the chances are better for cards that haven't been revealed. For instance, all four two's were in the deck, while two of the sevens were in the discard pile and-"

"Are you little idiots teaching my nine-year-old to count cards?"

Of course he found her. He told her that she was allowed to roam the courtyard and attempt to socialize with the first and second years on Saturdays. She hadn't had much luck. "Snape's foundling", most avoided her like the plague. The advice and lesson was the closest she'd come all afternoon to social interaction. And as expected, he physically removed her from the circle. She knew her father wasn't the monster others said he was, and she defended most of what he did...at least mentally. However, she resented being picked up like a toddler every time he didn't like where she was. It wasn't fair.

"Actually," Fred began.

"She's teaching us," George finished.

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I like numbers," she mumbled.

"That's wonderful, little girl," his icy voice dripped in sarcasm. "You can work with all the numbers you want when you help me with the inventory. And I'll be deducting five points each from you lot. Gambling is strictly forbidden on school grounds. Hand the cards over."

"That didn't work out," her father said counting jars in the storeroom. "Maybe we'll try again next year."

It was March! How long would Hermione be relinquished to simply watch life pass her by? Nine years and she had not once been off the school grounds. Just two more years, she told herself. "You only have thirty-two rat spleens left." She jotted it down on her chart. "You'll have to harvest more."

"No protests?" he mused. "I don't know whether to be relieved or concerned."

"Of course not," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You do know best after all."

"I can do without the cheek, young lady," he said. "And I do know best. Never forget that."

* * *

"You want to leave for a whole month?" he said leafing through the proposal. "Are you mad, little girl?"

Outside of the incident with the Weasley twins she had been perfectly well-behaved all year. She had gone above and beyond, his office and their living quarters were spotless, she had always been keen to help him with his work, but now she took initiative. He should have expected something like this...

"Each of them are only four weeks in length, and they're educational," she noted.

Before him she had laid out twelve pamphlets for July summer camps throughout the country. Eleven wizarding camps that claimed to socialize younger children while teaching them something of use. One offered to teach basic arithmetic and literacy, some promised to conduct itself entirely in another language and other useless prattle. The twelfth was a muggle maths camp. She even wrote a two-page proposal and attached testimonials of students for each one. At nine-years-old she had spent almost the entire year gathering information in secret to present him with this in May. He wished he could channel such thorough efforts to something constructive.

"At the rate of which you read books I'm doubtful you need help with literacy and you've already proven yourself to be good enough at maths to count cards," he reminded her. "There's nothing in any of these programs I can't help with. Unless of course, you don't think I'm good enough for your liking. I understand, I only raised you and taught you everything you know."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before folding her arms across her arms and rubbing her shoulders. She knit her eyebrows and took a deep breath before responding. "That's not it at all, Dad," she sighed backing away from him. "It has nothing to do with you. I just-" she choked.

"You just what?" he said. "Go on, I'm listening."

"I've never met anyone my age. The idea of starting school without any friends..." she took another deep breath before averting her gaze. "It terrifies me."

"Is that what this is all about?" he laughed. "Almost every first year is in the exact same position as you," he approached her and placed a hand on her head. "You're such a silly little girl."

Hermione still stared at her feet, her hair completely covering her face and torso. He couldn't help but imagine that if she could grow it long enough she'd hide her entire body with it. She was so inscrutable. At times the girl was funny, well-spoken and very forward (perhaps often too much so!), but then she would shrink behind her hair, a book or whatever was available. He felt the older she got the less he understood her. What was he supposed to do?

"You should look at people when they're speaking to you, love," he sighed moving the locks out of her face. "What is all of this about?"

Hermione's face flushed a bright pink and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I told you something _terrified_ me and you _laughed!"_ she squeaked. "I'm not crazy to worry about this."

"Did I call you crazy?" he replied coolly. "I don't seem to recall doing so..."

"'Are you mad, little girl?'" Hermione said. "Those were your exact words minutes ago."

She was right. Guilt and anger warred within him. The girl was nine, perhaps she was young enough he still had to curate his words. Perhaps he was a tad harsh, but who was she to speak to him in that way? He wasn't some unfeeling monster, but she couldn't be speaking to him like that. He was her father, some respect was due. She was raised better than this.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that again!" he snapped. "How could I have raised such an impetuous child? If you don't apologize right now I will give you something to cry about!"

 _Jesus, sound familiar?_ Those words reminded him too much of his own upbringing. Another way he managed to fail her, he hoped his count was more accurate than hers would be. He bit his tongue before drawing out a long breath. He thought in silence before he had the chance to say something else he'd regret Hermione broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she evened her tone. "You're right. This whole thing was stupid-"

"I never said that it was stupid," he evened his own tone. "I simply think you're misguided."

Hermione shrugged and backed up from him. "It doesn't matter. I'm a social retard anyway."

"A what?" he coughed.

Hermione dug her teeth into her lip and wrung her hands. "I don't know how to talk to people...It's like a game I don't know the rules to."

"And you thought being put in a sink-or-swim situation would help with that?"

"Yessir," she averted her gaze again. "Stupid, I know."

"Hermione, I-" he began. "Where the hell does a nine-year-old pick up a term like 'social retard'?"

"I've heard it a few times here or there," she shrugged.

"Here or there? How specific," he sighed. "I imagine you think you're protecting someone? Such a naive child. First rule of the real world; don't reward their cruelty with loyalty. They'll only be more cruel in return."

"Yessir," she said.

"I want to tell you that things will get better," he said. "But I'm not going to lie to you. You're not like those idiots and they will hurt you if you give them the chance. But they won't all be like that. Choose your friends wisely, love."

"Yessir," she nodded.


	3. Last Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape assigns Hermione busy work to keep her away from the preparations he and the other professors make to guard the stone.

"Hi, Dad," Hermione greeted him as she hung the last of the monkshood from the drying lines.

"Someone's been busy this morning," he noted. "And I see you've addressed the newt eyes too. How are they sorted?"

"Left to right, newest in back and three years or older in the bin for the thestrals," she sighed.

"And so she listens!" Severus teased. "It's a miracle."

"Love you too, Dad," she laughed descending the ladder. "I already sorted the snake skins by breed and age, extracted and stored the toad stones and separated the mistletoe leaves and berries."

Hermione stood opposite him, leaning against the long work table to cross something off her list. Nearly eleven, she stood close to half his height now but was still all hair and eyes. Her easiest identifier was her bushy brown hair nearly reaching her waist, adding to what he considered a doll-like appearance when she bothered to move it out of her large almond-shaped eyes. Despite what his colleagues said, he still saw the four-year-old who used to hang herbs to dry from his shoulders. Though she had since then re-grown her front teeth. Which sadly were long enough to draw attention whenever she opened her mouth. He suspected they would earn her a hard time.

"And all before noon," he said placing a hand on her head. "Why?"

"Can't I do something nice for my poor over-worked father?" She offered.

"Historically?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "You normally wait for me to start. Ah, yes, I remember you saying something to the effect of me 'not having an intuitive system' and that you 'still have no chance of remembering it all unless I drew you a map'."

"Which you never did," she scanned the list. "But I did, so I have it down."

A reference book lay open to illustrate her point. It was very well drawn with extremely detailed calligraphy noting how and why things were situated in the still room. The number of details made him imagine an old textbook or map. The black ink was already dried, meaning she had done it before this morning. Isolation might have been hard on the child, but she had developed a wide range of skills and languages he imagined she wouldn't have if he had sent her away during her early childhood.

Another book caught his eye. A thin and short red volume with the word _Carrie_ written on the cover. He picked it up to flip through it. "What on earth are you reading?"

"Muggle novel that I found while cleaning the library," she said. "It's written kind of like police files to be more immersive. It's about a seventeen-year-old girl who develops telekinesis. I've finished it if you want to read it."

"You've finished a novel you picked up yesterday and did most of a day's work all before noon? And when did you draw this?"

"Last night," she said.

"I know you didn't eat and should I even ask if you slept?" he asked looking up from the book.

"I'm still young," she shrugged. "Was there anything else that we need to do today?"

" _You_ need to sleep," he gently ushered her away from the table.

"But it's eleven, what if I sleep all day?"

"I'll wake you later," he assured her.

"But-"

"But nothing," he said. "You can either go to bed or I can carry you."

"And I'm on my way."

* * *

Hermione woke up with a yelp and shudder. Relieved to find herself in her own bed, she tried to banish the images of teachers and students laughing from her mind. Covered in pig's blood and plastered with failing papers all over her body, the entire school pointed and laughed at her. Heather George muttering to Linda Curry that she was a "social retard" and the Weasley twins teasing her for thinking they could ever be friends. Amidst it all her father stood before her smirking and said:

"I told you so."

"I'm sorry?" she gasped and rubbed her eyes.

"I told you that if you read trash before bed you would have nightmares," her father said sitting next to her with a cup of tea. "I never wanted to censor what you read, but this seems hardly appropriate for a ten-year-old. No wonder you didn't sleep last night."

Hermione examined the tea he handed her, watching for some inconsistency in the steam or liquid. Not that she expected him to poison her, but some part of her never trusted drinks she herself didn't make.

"It's just tea, Hermione Elizabeth," he groaned. "I gave you one sleeping draught three years ago and you scrutinize everything I give you."

"Why do I feel like you gave me three impossibly long names so you can relish each syllable?"

He smirked and ruffled her hair. "I gave you impossibly long names to give myself time to cool down when you're in trouble. It may have saved your life once or twice."

Hermione smiled back at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I suppose I should thank you for that."

"I imagine you should," he laughed.

There was a moment of silence, she could tell that he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth once or twice before his face flushed pink. He rose to his feet and folded his arms over his chest. "Did you need to talk about... _anything?_ "

"Any...Dad, what are you-" she gulped before she felt her own face flush. "No, no, I already know about all that! We're good!"

He sighed in relief and his face returned to its usual pale tone. "I'm not going to ask how you know."

Hermione rose to her feet and looked at the rays of sun coming in from the high-up window. "What time is it?"

"Three," he replied.

"Three!" Hermione hit her forehead before muttering a swear in Elvish. "I told Hagrid I would-"

"He's perfectly capable of looking after the hippogriffs himself," he informed her. "Madam Pince also easily saw to surveying the library on her own and I got everything I needed to get done today done."

Hermione mentally counted promises she made. The first and last few days of summer vacation were always so busy. She had in one way or another promised to help everyone to help get the castle back in order. She turned to the bedside table to find her list before she remembered she left it in the still room.

"Professor Sprout cared for the mandrake seedlings," he now held her list. "Professor McGonagall's summer homework is sorted, and the headmaster filed away applications himself. You shouldn't promise so much. Not when you have so much to do."

"I had a plan to get it all done," she promised. "I had written a timeline on the list."

"Oh, yes," he reviewed the list. "Are you in possession of time-turner I was unaware of?"

"I doubt that that could escape your notice," she rolled her eyes while making the bed.

"We parents love being told the only reason our children behave is the risk of being caught."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and turned to face him. His ever-watchful eye was not her only deterrent from misbehaving, but she wouldn't correct him. How was she both a chronic miscreant and something precious to be protected in his mind was beyond her. "Wait, if everything's done than what's the 'so much I have to do'?"

"You were supposed to paint over the graduating class's graffiti, " he counted.

 _Guess that means they couldn't break through the enchantment..._ she thought. _Last time I volunteer for something like that!_

"The eye-rolling, Hermione Elizabeth, it stops now," he instructed. "I'm not the little idiot who foolishly accepted the headmaster's challenge."

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Then I believe I asked you to copy the 1970's disciplinary papers," he continued. "That will take some time, but we have all summer. And I still want to see those French work sheets."

"Yessir," she nodded grabbing her bag and presenting him with the finished papers.

"Done already?" he mused. "How can you do calligraphy and still have such messy hand-writing? Perhaps next time prioritize legible hand-writing over speed. You'll have to do it again."

"Yessir," she nodded again taking the papers.

She recalled seeing him mark much messier writing than what she had done there. Much, much messier. Hermione fancied it was a ploy to keep her away from working with Hagrid. He never liked the idea of her going with him to look after the animals. No, he never liked her being out of his sight. Now that she was older he had less of a leg to stand on, but she could see he was trying. He believed the world was a cruel and wicked place, and that it would tear her apart the moment she entered it. An idiot could see that.

"I know this is frustrating, love," he placed a hand on the top of her head. "But once you start school, you'll have to do much more on very strict deadlines. You'll thank me when you're older."

"I completely understand, Dad," she smiled and tilted her head. "You know best, after all."

"You know, my dear, you are a terrible liar," he sighed. "But I do know best."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"See if you can finish copying those French sheets before supper and we'll see where you are after."

She grabbed a hard-covered notebook quill and ink well placing it in her bag. She then threw it over her shoulder before leaving getting ready to leave the room before her father took her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"I work better in the library," she explained. "I'll see you at supper, Dad. Love you."

"Forgetting something?" he said pointing at the tea and toast on the bedside table.

"Yes, thank you, Dad,"Hermione picked up a slice, taking a single bite, and downed the rest of the tea in one motion. "Okay, I'm off!"

"Don't be late!" he called after her.

* * *

"I have her busy enough that she'll be far from the third floor the whole summer," Severus assured Dumbledore.

"Poor child," he mused stroking his white beard. "But it's better she doesn't figure anything out."

"Poor child?" he rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one who has her painting a pointless mural on the entrance hall."

"She volunteered," Dumbledore chuckled.

"We both know how apt that child is at saying 'no' to tasks."

"Touche, Severus," he chuckled. "How far are you in your preparations?"

He summoned three bottles with different coloured liquids. "Two will enable the drinker to walk through the barrier. One will lead to back to Minerva's task. The other will lead forward to whatever the next step in your elaborate puzzle is. I'm brewing more as we speak."

"Your girl isn't the least bit curious?" McGonagall asked.

"Completely clueless," he assured her. "I'm more worried about the transport of Hagrid's newest acquisition."

"Fluffy's completely harmless!" Hagrid huffed.

"Harmless, perhaps," he said. "But I don't think the transit of a cerebus will be an easy task."

"We'll have him safely and discretely transported tonight," Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "He'll be brought in at two o'clock."

"We'll meet at the edge of the forest," McGonagall said. "Are we sure we have everything to move it, Albus?"

"Everything is in place, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled. "I'm certain this will go smoothly."

He was certain things would move smoothly, but Severus was not. He didn't like the idea of keeping a three-headed monster in a single room indefinitely. He saw a disaster where they saw a flawless defence plan. He returned to the entrance hall to find Hermione staring at the graffitied wall holding a paintbrush and presumably shrinking before the task. He crept up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

"This must be your best work yet," he said.

"Gaaah!" she yelped with a jump before spinning around. The brush fell from her hand while she kicked a bucket of paint over, splattering ivory over the wall and floor before falling into it. She rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead. "Really, Dad?"

"At least you now have paint on the wall," he smirked helping her off the ground. "Are you-"

He was interrupted by a grave meow from a skeletal grey cat. Mrs Norris stared at the two of them with her lamp yellow eyes with an air of disapproval, her paws tracking ivory paint as she approached them.

"Great," Hermione sighed. "Filch is going to hang me by my entrails!"

" _Mr_ Filch will do no such thing," he reprimanded, taking out his wand. "And watch your tone, little girl."

"What have you done?" Filch stared at Hermione after picking up his now white-pawed cat. He did look like he wanted to hang her by her entrails.

"It's handled, Mr Filch," Severus said, illustrating his point by disappearing the paint. "You'll find everything is in order."

"Just keep your brat in order!" he spat before crooning over Mrs Norris's paws.

"My _daughter_ is just fine," he said putting an arm around her shoulders. "Though I do understand your frustration, Mr. Filch. You must be exhausted. It's not as if a child is fulfilling criteria that falls within your job description."

"Come along, precious," he said to his cat. "We're not wanted here."

Filch continued on his way grumbling about how he would have to clean her paws. Watching the grumbling caretaker marching off away from him reminded him of his own schooling. Though he was rarely the cause back in those days.

"Did he really threaten to hang you by your entrails?" he muttered in her ear.

"Do you really have to ask?" she muttered back from the corner of her mouth.

"I suppose not," he sighed. "You should get cleaned up before the ghosts accuse you of a hate crime."

Hermione stifled a giggle with a paint-covered hand. "And track footprints through Mr. Filch's clean corridors?"

"It's truly a pity," he smirked.

"Do you think he knows just how much blood he'd have to clean up if he made good on his threat?" she said.

"Not to mention cleaning the instruments afterward."

"That alone could take hours!" Hermione gasped. "Why, Dad, that would be torture!"

The two of them made eye contact before simultaneously bursting into laughter. The half of Hermione's face that wasn't covered in paint flushed pink before she shook her head and picked up her bucket. Despite the ribbing the two engaged in, he couldn't remember the last time the two laughed together so hard. He was aware how bizarre the scene was. Hermione stood covered in paint laughing with him. Perhaps he should feel shame at it being at Filch's expense, but this was one of those moments he wished he could freeze.

"I should go," she said picking up the empty can. "I'll see you tonight!"

Watching her walk away he became painfully aware he couldn't freeze the moment. Nor any other. Hermione would grow up, and it was happening faster than he was prepared for. He never fancied himself sentimental, but now he was one of those parents who desperately wished his child would be little forever. His job was to forge her into a good human being. Not to coddle her. Severus hated it. The years marched on and he couldn't seem to catch up. He couldn't help but wonder if they would take her from him too.

"Hermione, wait!" he called after her, too late. She had already vanished. "Damn," he sighed looking at his own paint-covered hand.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked her father.

Dark rings circled his eyes and he slumped the over his desk at times he scanned through files. He rubbed his eyes and looked up from his papers at her. "Just not as young as I used to be."

"Not as young as you used to be?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're thirty-one, Dad."

"Don't roll your eyes!" he snapped. "I swear if I have to tell you that one more time I'll switch your eyes with the damn owl's."

"Sorry, sir," she set her quill down. "You've been a bit off the past few days. Is everything okay?"

He sighed and set his own quill down before closing the file before rubbing his neck. "I'm fine. You have work to do."

Hermione examined his face. The past week she had seen the changes: his usually pale skin further blanched, his eyes once intent now drooped closed, and his already volatile mood sat on a razor's edge. The mid-July heat didn't help, even Archimedes over preened from his perch to cope. Hermione and her father weren't at each other's throats, but the behaviours that annoyed them about each other seemed all the more grating. Though she attributed his recent changes to the late nights. She wished she knew why he entered their living quarters at 3 am most mornings recently. She had noticed it the past three weeks, but she wasn't about to let him know.

"Okay," she said returning to yet another file detailing the misadventures of James Potter and company.

An hour passed in silence, both of them copying the files verbatim onto newer parchment. She felt that she would lose her damn mind if she had to read one more write-up on James Potter and company pranking students and faculty. Her father had hand-picked the files she copied and she couldn't help but feel there was a reason James Potter made up an unhealthy majority of them. When he was in a more favourable mood she would ask him what his damn point was.

"I have to go," he said closing the file and pointing to the basket. "I want everything in that basket done when I come back."

Hermione bit her lip to prevent herself from frowning at the tower of paper sitting in the 'to be copied' paper. "Yessir."

"Archimedes," he whistled.

The tawny eastern screech owl flew to his arm and peered at him with yellow eyes. He then turned to her, narrowing his eyes with an uncomfortable intelligence. Archimedes was nearly her age, but the small bird showed no signs of slowing down. She managed to placate him at times, but Archimedes's loyalty laid with her father.

"I might be the rest of the night," he explained placing his other hand on her head. "Keep the window open and send him out when you've finished and when you leave for _any_ reason."

She didn't know whether to be frustrated with him enlisting an owl to mind her or if she was relieved he didn't grab a house-elf or other staff member. She wondered why he didn't enlist Libby, but hoped it meant he knew she was old enough not be inconveniencing the poor house-elf.

"Yessir," she nodded.

He sent the owl to perch opposite Hermione before moving a lock of hair out of her face. "I'll see you when I get back. Don't wait up."

"See you then," she said. "And, Dad?"

"Yes, love?"

"Whatever you're doing... just be careful," she sighed. "It's stupid, but I worry."

"And here I thought it was my job to worry about you," he smiled. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Don't stay up too late."

 _You're a terrible liar..._ "Understood," she nodded before hugging him. "Night, Dad."

"I'm tired not dying, little girl," he sighed lifting her face. "I repeat, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now get those finished and don't forget to feed yourself."

"Yessir."

After he left she turned to Archimedes. Under his black eyebrow-like ears he peered at her with cold judgement in his large yellow eyes.

"Guess it's just us, huh?" she asked offering him a whole peanut.

The owl greedily pecked at her palm, eating the peanut shell and all.

"Are you sure you're not a crow?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes in a rather human-like fashion and craned his face closer to hers.

"Sorry to have insulted your grace!" she rolled her eyes.

Archimedes pointed his wing at the mountain of paperwork in front of her.

Another eyeroll and a peace offering later Hermione set to work. Hours passed in silence or with her whistling bits of tunes she didn't fully know. Archimedes seemed to judge her, glaring at her. She stopped whistling and continued in silence. She copied the files without processing what she was copying, but simply recorded it accurately and _legibly._ By the time she got to the last two files her hand cramped so badly that she had to release her quill and stretch out her fingers with her other hand.

"Wait," she said to herself. "1977-1978, where's 1975-1976?"

Hermione stood up to go to the archives only to be met with a screeching as she reached the door. She turned to the owl, his beak and eyes opening to the size of dessert plates. The screech echoed through the dungeons and she yelled at him begging him to stop.

"Archimedes, come on! Please shut up!" she begged. "I have a peanut! Don't you want this? Mmmm, yummy!"

The damn owl would not be sated until she sat back down and took out the file from the basket. Once she opened the '77/78 file and began copying it the bird smugly stared at her. "Are you happy?" she hissed.

"Is Miss Hermione harmed?" asked a squeaky voice from behind her.

"Libby?" she choked spinning around.

Libby shrank, her large brown eyes turning to the ground as she fiddled with the hem of her patch-work pillowcase. "Miss Hermione looks angry."

"Miss Hermione is startled," Hermione said clutching her chest. "Are you okay, Libby?"

"Libby is very well," she assured her.

Hermione knelt to Libby looking in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Professor Snape told Libby to clean the dungeons and if she hears an owl scream to come to his office immediately and check on Miss Hermione!"

 _Of course he did!_ Hermione glared at Archimedes. "You see," she hissed at the owl. "This is why I'm a cat person!"

"Libby is sorry," she said meekly.

"No," Hermione softened her voice. "Libby, I'm not mad at you. You're just doing your job. I'm mad at the damn owl."

The two glared at each other. Mage-Bred owls were the worst. So human in so many ways, but so difficult to appease. Sure, her father could threaten to switch their eyes and Archimedes would do nothing, but she dare call him a "damn owl" and she received a death glare.

"Libby understands Archimedes is a very particular owl," she nodded. "But Miss is unharmed?"

"Yeah," she replied smiling. "I was just about to leave the room when he started screaming bloody murder. I simply went to fetch a file so I could finish my task and he was having none of it."

Archimedes hooted and bristled with pride. He felt more like an arrogant nanny than a family pet at times.

"Yes, you've done a very good job, bird-brain," she grumbled. "Sentry of the century!"

"What file?" Libby asked. "Libby can fetch it without angering Archimedes."

"I don't want you going out of your way for me, Libby," she said taking her hands. "Honestly, I don't mind one less mammoth file to copy. It might enable me to actually do something else tonight."

Libby smiled mischievously, her eyes gleaming. "Miss Hermione is a sly child."

Hermione finished copying the final file to fresh parchment and placed it in the completed basket for her father to review at his leisure. The completionist in her wondered about the missing year. Her father had the same detail-oriented, completionist streak in him. She was certain it wasn't a mistake he could make, even in his harried state. But he did hand pick which of the files in each year she would copy. Maybe 1975/1976 simply didn't fit his narrative of "James Potter and his whole lot were rotten to the core." Something that now that she thought of it, had to have something to do with Harry Potter attending his first year. Was he trying to tell her that because his father was a real jerk, Harry would be too? Yes, that had to be it...

"Okay, Archimedes," she said handing him a folded letter with her update. "Here you go."

The owl flew off and Hermione waited for his return pacing the length of her father's office. Occaisionally she would tidy here or there, keeping to her father's strict system of things. She had finished dusting the shelves by the time the Archimedes returned to the room with a rolled piece of parchment tied to his leg. She thanked him with yet another whole peanut and unfurled the message.

_Hermione,_

_By time you get this, it'll be late. If you haven't already tidied, do that. Though, knowing you, I imagine you had. Go to living quarters and stay there! I better not hear another report from Libby saying you tried to leave._

_And for the love of all that is holy don't stay up all night!_

_LIBBY WILL BE CHECKING ON YOU!_

_Your exasperated father_

"Wow," she told the bird. "I can just feel the paternal love oozing from this!" she grabbed her quill and wrote her own letter.

_Exasperated Father,_

_Reporting to living quarters at 2100 hours for the duration of 15, July 1991 until 0600hours on 16, July 1991._

_Awaiting further instruction, sir!_

_Your obedient daughter_

Hermione sighed knowing exactly what would come of her sending Archimedes with that letter. She imagined him ranting endlessly about her cheek and how she appreciated nothing. She simply had no idea of what he had to endure for her benefit! Though how could she? She was just a silly little girl, but she certainly would appreciate everything he's done once she was older. Hermione rolled her eyes and wrote a new letter.

_Dad,_

_Not to worry! You've correctly predicted I would have things already sorted, you know me too well. I'm heading to our living-quarters at nine o'clock. I hope the night runs smoothly for you._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

"You're going to get fat!" she scolded the owl.

Archimedes demanded another peanut before he let her tie the note to his leg and again before he left. She was now out of peanuts and out of patience as the owl left her arm and fled from the high window. She did another tidy of the office, ensuring everything was in order before she left. She marked her place in her book with the unused note and snuffed the lit candles around the room.

She entered the dark hall with a lit taper and quietly padded her way down the corridor that led to their living quarters. She felt as though she shouldn't be in the corridor at night. A remnant of her father's presence or one of his agents everywhere she turned. Sure, she sounded paranoid, but nearly eleven years of his watchful eye made her suspect everything. She truly loved her father, but she wished she could simply walk down a corridor without fearing she had somehow displeased him.

She made her entered the room she had spent the last ten years in. The fireplace had already been lit and glow globes at each corner of the entrance alcove. Rice paper dividers stood dividing where they slept from what had become a living area as well as separating the makeshift bedrooms from each other. Ten years rice paper and hiding in the library were the key to her own privacy. How could she have been so isolated but never alone? She rolled her eyes at the thought and sat herself at the round wooden table in front of the fireplace.

She hunched over her book and began the chapter on immutable physical and metaphysical properties of metals. Hermione hadn't received her letter yet, but when she did she wanted to be ready. Some of what she read was beyond her level, but she crossed referenced all she could to make sense of it. She felt like if she understood the fundamental laws of magic she would know what she was doing. A complete understanding of the properties of potions ingredients and tools allowed her to make calls while preparing them, knowing the parts of speech made learning French, Latin, Elvish and Goblin easier and knowing individual constellations allowed her to map the sky more easily. Details made her see the whole. Though she wished she had the talent of some of the students she spied on. So many seemed to intuitively get it without the hard work. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as she fancied she was.

Hermione finished the chapter, scrawling notes on the back of her unsent message to help her memorize the finer points. She moved to the next chapter on branching spells. The idea was that individual spells were new branches on a great existing tree with roots deep into the ground, all feeding from the same source and-

"Shit!" Hermione exclaimed grabbing her sketchbook.

Four weeks and all she had accomplished on that damn mural was to paint over the wall in ivory. She started sketching out a tree with a tangle of roots reaching into a rippling water source. Burrowing amongst the roots was the humble badger. She began on the serpent coiling up the trunk when a snap broke the silence. She looked up and Libby stood beside Archimedes at the door. The owl flew to his perch dropping a note on her sketchbook on the way.

_Hermione,_

_There's a sleeping draught on the mantle if you need it. I'll be back in the morning._

_Dad_

_P.S: I almost forgot. Don't read by the light of the glow globe. You'll ruin your eyes!_

"Libby apologizes, Miss Hermione," Libby squeaked.

"Why?" Hermione asked setting aside the note. "You're not the one that sending nagging notes. Even when I'm alone he sends an owl to yell at me." _Is that unfair for me to say?_

Libby gently smiled and sat on the table. "Please don't be mad at Professor Snape, Miss Hermione. He only wants what's best for Miss Hermione."

"I know, Libby," she sighed. "I'm sorry you have to mind me."

"Would Miss Hermione like Libby to tell her a secret?" she asked taking her hand.

Curiosity burned at her brain. Maybe Libby knew where she came from. Maybe she wasn't bound to keep her father's secrets. She wondered which she would rather know. On one hand, she desperately wanted to know what the teachers were all up to this summer. They had all been acting strangely. But to know where she came from...Some have called her "Snape's foundling" meaning he found her. Where did he find her? What about the rumours she was actually a year younger than he told everyone to hide a sordid affair with a student? That didn't seem likely. Did he adopt her? Find her? Did she have a mother out there somewhere...that most likely abandoned the two of them?

"What is it?" she asked leaning in.

"Minding Miss Hermione is Libby's favourite duty!" she smiled.

Hermione forced a smile hoping to hide her disappointment. "You're so sweet, Libby. Thank you."

"Oh!" she said snapping her fingers and presenting a sandwich cut into corners and cup of tea. "Libby almost forgot!"

So did Hermione. She neglected her gurgling stomach in the interest of getting everything done. She happily took a quarter of the sandwich and gestured to the plate to the skinny house-elf. "Thanks, Libby. You know, I feel weird about eating by myself, any chance you could take some? I know it's not appropriate, but I would feel better about it."

Libby took a quarter and nibbled gingerly on it, though her expression told Hermione she had also neglected to feed herself. The two ate their very late supper and Libby admired Hermione's initial sketch.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as Libby complimented her. She wondered how much of it was pity or duty but broke from her own self-pity long enough to see the tiny house-elf shivering.

"Are blankets clothes, Libby?" Hermione asked on her way to her room.

"No, Miss Hermione, why?"

Hermione dug out her multi-coloured poorly knitted blanket. It was not quite as tall as Libby as she gave up and cast off when she couldn't replicate the pattern exactly. She was now thankful for it, it was the right size for Libby to wear like a cloak or shawl without being shamed or scorned. She presented it to Libby. "You look cold. I tried to make a blanket earlier this year. I have no use for it."

"It's so sweet, Miss Hermione!" she said wrapping it around her shoulders. "Libby thanks Miss Hermione!"

Libby left and Hermione wished she could free the indentured house-elves without shaming them. It was so unfair, and the ones that hadn't been brainwashed by centuries of slavery were afraid to advocate for their own freedom. She sighed and returned to her sketch wondering if she could ever help them.

* * *

The last of the potions were finally brewed and Severus handed them along with the plans and riddle to Dumbledore around three that morning. The Devils Snare had been relocated successfully to the chamber beneath the trapdoor. That took more time and effort on his part and Sprout's than either had accounted for. The forty-foot drop was about as easy to navigate as a damn labyrinth. He pushed the thought from his mind as he entered their living-quarters.

Why was he not surprised? Hermione sat at the table with her face buried in an open book. One of three open books that sat on the table. He approached her and Archimedes flew to perch himself on the back of her chair, staring intently at him.

"You'll wake her!" he hissed.

Archimedes narrowed his yellow eyes with an arrogant judgement he once had only imagined humans capable of.

"I get it," he whispered. "I'm a terrible father!"

Severus gently lifted her from the chair, careful not to wake her. He wondered how long she had been sleeping at the table as he carried her into her bedroom. Archimedes followed him and cast another judgemental glare at him as he tucked her into bed. Hermione seemed so vulnerable and tiny. She was not greatly smaller than others her age, but he couldn't help but remember the baby girl sleeping in his arms. The damn owl was right, he left her alone too often. He never thought he could love another person as long as he lived, but this little girl, _his_ little girl, changed that. And he repaid her with the very negligence he accused her birth parents of.

Why did she have to start school this year? Why the year they moved the stone to the school? The ear he kept to the ground and news reports on the continent all but confirmed dark magic was afoot. If Voldemort could somehow return, he would want the stone. Hence the late nights creating mythological tasks to guard the damn thing. If their fears were true, how much danger was she in? Would Lily's son bring a host of danger as well? Why did they have to be in the same year? He should have lied about her age. Maybe then the only person he still cared about would be safe.

 _Or you could send her away, but you're too selfish for that..._ He thought as he turned to leave.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Hermione gasped bolting upright.

Hermione looked around the darkened room in a fury before noticing she was in bed. Four weeks of these nightmares, he felt if he wasn't losing sleep over the stone he would be losing sleep over her. At least more than he usually did.

"Dad?" she knit her eyebrows in confusion.

"You were having a nightmare," he explained. "Again."

Hermione drew her knees up to her chest and shrank into a tight upright fetal position. He could barely make out her eyes between the blankets and her hair. "Sorry," she mumbled.

At this rate, he could dismiss any fears of her befriending the Potter boy. There was no way the timid girl would land in Gryffindor, and there was no way a son of Lily and James Potter would land anywhere else.

"Four weeks of this," he sighed sitting on the foot of her bed. "Do you remember anything?"

"No, sir," she shook her head.

 _When did she start lying to me? It was a while ago..._ "Why do I doubt that?"

Hermione lifted her head and sighed. "I'll get over it. It's stupid anyway...Pathetic really."

 _Did I do this to_ _you?_ he wondered but couldn't bring himself to say the words. "Try me," he said moving a strand of hair from her face.

Long minutes of silence passed between them. Severus's own shitty parents made him incapable of navigating moments like these. Was it better to let it be? Was it better to urge her to speak? He had no clue what she needed. He longed for a time when he knew exactly what she wanted and he could dispel any fears she had with a well-placed distraction.

"Nobody is going to like me," she sighed scratching between Archimedes's eyes. "I'm an idiot for letting it bother me as much as it is."

He was about as equipped to advise her in that as the owl on her arm. It also just occurred to him then that his attempts to deter her from befriending the Potter boy were in part responsible. How many entries had she read of students transfiguring their unsuspecting peers? Amplifying features the victims were self-conscious of? Or any other assortment of public humiliations that landed their victims in the hospital? Some of the things he had her copy made the teenagers in _Carrie_ seem kind.

"See?" she said not taking her eyes off the owl. "Pathetic. Don't feel like you have to waste your time on this. I just have to grow up."

What the hell kind of ten-year-old spoke like that? How could she think he saw her concerns as a waste of time? Was this the future? Was he doomed to watch her suffer in silence with nothing to do about it? Sure, it was nightmares now, but soon enough she would be facing much larger problems. And if she was right about nobody liking her the issues would be even worse.

And that was assuming worse problems don't rear their head...He could only hope that the goings-on on the continent didn't mean the end of peace-time. Should that happen the temptation to make like the Godmother in a certain muggle fairy-tale was particularly strong.

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked, at last, making eye contact with him.

That was when he noticed the white-knuckled grip on Hermione's hand. He loosened his grip but wasn't willing to let go. Not yet, not until he could make things right for her. But...he had no clue how to do that. He cursed Hermione's insightfulness. She knew something was wrong, and what was he to tell her? That he was terrified of the idea she could be lost? That he couldn't help her? No, he had to be immovable.

"I'm fine," he sighed placing his other hand on her head. "I'm not the one who's unable to sleep through the night." _That was true about twelve years ago..._

"And still I worry," she gave him a weak smile and tilted her head.

"And I keep telling you not to," he sighed.

Another silence passed and the two stared at each other, both worried with no clue how to express it. He realized that there was nothing he could do and that she would talk to him when she was ready. It was all up to her and he _hated_ it! Severus might have been able to play the long game, but he was not a patient man, and he hated the idea that he would be useless again.

"It's late," he summoned a sleeping potion and handed it to her. "Drink this and get some sleep. Will you need me to stay with you?"

Hermione smiled gently and shook her head. "That's sweet, Dad. But we both know I'm _far_ too old for that. I appreciate the offer."

"Of course, love," he said less gently than he had wished to. _She is right about that...don't get upset... You literally told her that two years ago..._

 _She_ might have outgrown him staying with her, but he didn't outgrow listening for the sound of disturbances in her breathing or yelps. So he cleared the table until he was satisfied the potion took. He picked up her sketchbook and examined the half-done sketch. At ten the girl out-classed some of his better students in technical skill, was it talent or isolation? Either way, he a surge of paternal pride at the work.

Archimedes glared at him from the top of the sketchbook.

"No, I'm not going to tell her!" he hissed shooing the bird. "Hermione can do things without showing off. I don't see how heaping praise on the girl is going to in any way make her a better person. It'll only make her arrogant."

 _I'm_ _accusing a damn bird of judging me..._ He picked up the other books. As he closed _Laws and Principles of Magic Vol. 1_ he saw a piece of parchment with Hermione's writing marking the page. Very tiny writing detailed properties of different metals. _This girl is going to read the whole damn library before her first day._ He flipped the paper to find a rather cheeky note. Of course she drafted notes to him, that child was always so careful in writing. And now he wondered if Hermione truly felt he was some unreasonable taskmaster. Severus was torn between wanting to prove her right by adding to her plate and just telling her what all of this was about. He sighed and placed the marker back in place before heading to bed.

* * *

Sunlight barely entered the dungeon window and filtered through the rice paper dividers when Hermione woke. The damn roosters would start their crowing in an hour or so, and Hermione felt the two hours of sleep weigh on her like a stone. She urged her body out of bed, her mind sluggish as well from the potion. It gave her a deep, solid sleep, but she didn't wake as refreshed as she might have had she waited even just a couple hours more.

However her body cried for more sleep, she had shit to do. She would start by stealing some coffee from the kitchens. After she was-no, she was already dressed. She simply splashed cold water on her face from the basin before grabbing her things on the table. She found the books, charcoal, ink and quill neatly stacked and cleaned. She would get an earful when her father woke, but she probably deserved it. She looked to Archimedes who slept peacefully on his perch. Perhaps she could leave before six without his screeching. She placed her things in her bag and neglected her shoes. She padded out and quietly left their living quarters.

"Good morning, Miss Hermione," Libby smiled over a pot of coffee.

"Does Miss need anything?" asked Bitsy, another female house-elf.

Many of the house-elves greeted her with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but all wanted to ensure that the human in the room did not need anything. Hermione felt so gross, being doted on by creatures that felt bound to her. Her stomach churned as she moved to a magic icebox removing sausage, bacon and eggs. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd make myself and more father something," she shrugged.

"Does Miss not like our cooking?" Bitsy asked between her teeth, a strained smile broke Hermione's heart.

This was a conversation she had several times with the house-elves over the past two years. "Your cooking is beautiful, Bitsy," she assured her. "But I was raised to do things for myself. I feel wrong with others doing things for me."

"Miss Hermione is a peculiar human, Bitsy," Libby sighed rubbing her back. "But she also told Libby that she has to learn so she can take care of herself when she grows up. Perhaps Bitsy can help me show her things?"

"But Bitsy is making pies, Libby!" she whispered looking up at Hermione.

"Libby will teach me, Bitsy," Hermione smiled kneeling to the elf's eye-level. "Continue on with the pies. You're doing beautifully."

Libby supervised Hermione cooking breakfast while offering her coffee with a few remarks on how it was going to stunt her growth. She arranged the breakfast attractively on her father's plate and chopped sausage for Archimedes, sitting it on the side of her own plate, not touching her fruit or bread. She had to do some rather disgusting things to prepare for potions and the idea of eating animals on top of it churned her stomach. She covered the plates with towels, set the mugs upside down on the tray with one of the percolators.

"Does Miss Hermione need help?" Libby asked.

"No, Libby," she said carrying the tray out. "I got this. Thanks."

Hermione padded back down to their living-quarters and began setting the table. The roosters began crowing as Hermione poured coffee into the mugs waking the damn castle before the first bell rang. It was something that irked her without any real reason. She ignored it and began offering bits of sausage to the now awake Archimedes.

"Keep that up and he'll weigh more than you," her father said emerging from his room already dressed.

"Morning, Dad."

"Either the house-elves are early today or you raided the kitchens again," he posited sitting down.

"I was raised to do things for myself," she shrugged before offering another piece to Archimedes. "I swear you only like me when I feed you."

"That owl is more fond of you than you give him credit for," he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "And I may have wanted you to be independent, but I know I didn't teach you to do others' work for them. I swear if the Ministry found out Hogwarts would be facing child labour accusations."

"I only have a month and a bit before I have to sustain myself on slave labour, and besides," Hermione faced Archimedes to hide an eye roll and offered his last bit of sausage. "It's not child labour if it's only us. Is it wrong for me to want to be of some use to our family?"

"Sit down, little girl," he gestured across the table. "I'm tired of explaining why my owl is better fed than my daughter."

Hermione obliged and drank her coffee opposite him and picked at her fruit. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than you, it seems," he said pouring himself another cup. "What the hell kind of ten-year-old has a diet that consists of black coffee and fruit? You're going to look like a child until you're my age."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and poured herself water. "I'll use it to my advantage. Depending on what I chose to do with the rest of my life I'll get an advantage from being underestimated."

"It's not an underestimation if you're as fragile as you look," he said.

"I need to take Archimedes out, work on the mural, and return the books to the library," she counted after a period of uncomfortable silence. "Anything you need help with, Dad?"

"Let's see," he mused. "I can never seem to keep up with the demand or pickled rat brains and spleens, so that will have to be done. The unicorn horn powder needs to be sifted, I can see to the milking of scorpion, spider and snake venom. That will take all day, so you'll need to do the rest. Oh, and I need the tools sorted by metal type. Feel free to use your little cheat sheet."

Hermione's day of raiding the archives vanished before it began. She rose and moved beside him to kiss his cheek. She then tilted her head and smiled at him."I'll see to it immediately." she whistled and Archimedes flew to her arm for the price of a whole peanut.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he said rising as well.

"Yes?"

"The military uses numbers to indicate the month."

 _Little cheat sheet, military...crap! You're so careless!_ Hermione sighed turning from the door. "I am so sorry, Dad. I was angry when I wrote that, but I didn't send it because I didn't mean it."

"You got through a whole note using muggle military lingo you're unfamiliar with before your impulse control kicked in?" he scoffed.

Hermione slapped her forehead with her free hand. "J-," she sighed. "Yes. I'm a child, I've read somewhere we don't really develop impulse control until we're twenty-five."

"That makes so much sense," he groaned. "Let's go."

"Let's?"

"A contraction of 'let' and 'us'," he said banishing the used plates. "You've certainly read enough to know that."

 _Oh dear god!_ Hermione forced a smile and nodded. "Of course, Dad. I suppose I was just curious when you said you'd be spending when you said you would be spending the day milking venom."

"And let you alone when you have no impulse control? I'm coming with you."

Hermione raised her arm and watched Archimedes take to the clear blue sky. The owl circled before flying to a far tower in the school. She turned to her father leaning against a massive oak eyeing the owl with a stoic expression she couldn't interpret. He seemed uneasy, but she bet he was just still angry about the note she _never_ sent.

She imagined Archimedes was picking up a letter from the Headmaster. He would be a while. Were her father not with her she would lay in the grass and read for an hour before taking on the mural. But basking in the shade and sun on the dewy grass would only earn her snide comments about how the damn mural wasn't going to paint itself. _Does thinking that make me an ingrate?_

"Well," he started as she mixed paints on a palette. "It's very white."

"It's a base, Dad," she explained.

"After three weeks?"

"It has to dry between each layer," she sighed. "And when I started I was certain the graffiti enchantment would bleed through whatever I did."

He placed his hand on her head and looked at her. "If you thought the Headmaster was proposing a Sisyphean task, why the hell did you agree?"

"I guess I just wanted to be useful," she shrugged mixing an intense navy. "You've all been so busy all summer, and breaking the enchantment was one less thing for you to do. I have no clue what you lot are doing, but I know it's important."

"How much do you know?" he asked lifting her chin.

"Just that it's been keeping you all hours of the night," she said ignoring the chills running down her spine. Whatever it was, she was not supposed to know and it was this that unsettled her father. "I know it's very serious...nothing else, I swear."

"Very well," he said folding his arms over his chest. "I advise you to keep your head down. It doesn't concern you and I'm not above ensuring you remain ignorant."

"I know to mind my own business," Hermione turned back to her palette, dismissing his vague threat. "If it affected me at all you would tell me."

"If it affected you at all I would do anything in my power," he said.

 _Even to my dismay..._ she thought before smiling gently at him. "I know, Dad."

Hours passed and Hermione had painted the entire wall navy. Her father's presence had allowed her to apply two coats over the ivory by magically drying the paint, and drying it before Hermione returned to the floor.

"And here I thought you would wait until you were sorted before you started showing favouritism-or at least chose to favour your poor old dad's house?"

Hermione smirked and grandly gestured across the wall. "Yes, I have this artistic vision! A great gold raven majestically soaring high in a field of navy representing all of Hogwarts!"

"Ravenclaw's sigil is an eagle, and bronze. If you're going to spite me, be accurate about it."

Hermione shook her head. "I've decided to take artistic license. If I'm painting a single mascot _everybody's_ going to be disappointed."

"At least you have aspirations."

Hermione laughed and knelt to gingerly retrieve the book on star charts from her bag. She flipped through it with a clean kerchief.

"Madam Pince would kill you if you got paint on a single one of her books."

"Which is why I'm only referencing it to ensure I copied it right," Hermione again resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Dad, do you think I'm so careless? Marking up a book is just heretical."

"I should have never let you near that woman," he smirked. "I swear the minute she was convinced you were old enough not to be 'a sticky-fingered menace' she saw to indoctrinating you!"

"Just because I would rather drive knives into my eyeballs than harm our hard and paperbound brethren doesn't mean I've been indoctrinated," she said dramatically.

"Well, you'd certainly roll them less if you did that," he shrugged. "Did you accurately follow the instructions of your hardbound brethren?"

"Praiseth be the pages bound!" Hermione chanted crossing herself.

"And you just got paint in your hair," he smiled with an eye roll before kneeling to take the library book with his clean hands and poked her forehead. "And here."

"It might be an improvement," she shrugged running a hand through her hair before rummaging through her bag. "I can't possibly make it worse. I know I've got some moonstone pigment in here somewhere..."

* * *

"Damn girl forgot to lock the door again," Severus grumbled to himself before opening the door.

Upon the sight of his living quarters, he dropped his armload of books and grabbed his wand pointing it at the intruder holding an unconscious Hermione in her lap.

"What is it with you and claiming pet mudbloods?"

"How the hell did you get out of Azkaban?"

"Shh," Bellatrix grinned merrily pointing a wand at Hermione's temple. "Baby's sleeping. And I'd listen if you ever want her to wake again. Let go of the wand."

All he had to do was disarm her, there'd be no risk of that harming Hermione, but his fingers froze around his wand, a tight lump formed in his throat and a chill ran down his spine. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. His chest tightened and stomach churned. He had to move. To do something. All he could do was watch as Bellatrix cupped Hermione's face to turn it to face him.

"Pwease, you don't want to huwt me, Daddy!" she squeaked moving Hermione's jaw.

He wanted to tell her to get the hell away from his daughter. He wanted to disarm her, get Hermione somewhere safe and ensure that Bellatrix would never be a problem again. Something that should have been easy, yet his frozen muscles refused to move. This must have been what petrification was like. If he couldn't attack Bellatrix without risking Hermione could he at least do as she said.

"Don't you wub me, Daddy?" Bellatrix cackled.

_Move! Move, you stupid son of a bitch! Save your baby!_

"Drop it, Snape," Bellatrix sang. "Or Daddy's pwecious widdle giwl won't live to see her eleventh birthday!"

Severus sank to his knees and dropped his wand. "Please let her go."

"Tell me how to get the stone."

"Second door on the left-hand third floor corridor... there's a trapdoor...now let her go!"

Bellatrix threw Hermione across the room, she landed at his knees unmoving.

"Hermione!" he held her to him feeling her cold face. "Don't do this to me! No, no, no, no!"

Bellatrix smirked evilly. "I'm not going to suffer a mudblood to live. She was dead long before you got here!"

"You bitch!" he cried.

"But is it really her fault, Sev?"

Only one person ever called him that. He turned around to see a beautiful auburn-haired woman with bright green eyes standing before him. How...Lily stood before him, her beautiful features contorted in anger. "She would still be alive if you left her with her _real_ parents!"

"You don't understand, Lily! She was so sick..."

"The doctors would have saved her and you know it!" she hissed. "She would have simply been asthmatic and unathletic. But alive!"

"Lily, I-"

"Save it, Severus!" she snapped. "You couldn't save me and you can't protect her! You gave up the stone because you're weak. I've died for nothing!"

"I just wanted to protect my baby!" he cried.

"And so did I!" she screamed. "And because of you, _my_ baby is an orphan!"

"I know," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Lily!"

"Sorry doesn't bring her back, now does it, Daddy?" Hermione was no longer dead in his arms, but kneeling at his side. "Sorry fixes nothing!"

"We're both dead because of you!" Lily screamed in his other ear. "You gave Voldemort the prophecy that lead to mine and my husband's deaths!"

"You tricked my _real_ parents into giving me up!"

"You orphaned my son!"

"You raised me to trust no one but you!"

"You became a Death Eater because your schoolboy crush didn't return your feelings!"

"You will give up the stone to your old master!"

"You couldn't save me!"

"You couldn't protect me!"

The two converged on his ears and screamed: "And you can't protect Harry!"

Severus woke that morning gasping for air, but in his own bed. He looked around before noticing Hermione's silhouette leaning against Archimedes's perch, feeding him something to be sure. He silently sighed and thanked whatever higher power might exist before getting dressed and putting on his shoes.

He entered the living area to find Hermione feeding bits of sausage to Archimedes.

"Keep that up and he'll weigh more than you," he teased.

"Morning, Dad."

_I can protect you._


	4. Diagon Alley and the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione continues to engage in busy work and figures out Snape might have been hiding letters from a penpal Dumbledore had set up for her. All before going to Diagon Alley to get her wand and robes where she finally meets a person her own age.

Archimedes flew into the window landing on their kitchen table with pride.

"Wow, birdbrain," Hermione groaned. "I'm so impressed you can do your job!"

Her father sighed sorting through the mail. "I do not understand why you feel the need to antagonize the family owl."

Hermione picked apart her toast and stared at Archimede's narrowed eyes. "How childish do I sound if I say he started it?"

"Extremely," he said setting aside a copy of the Prophet. "You were two, I doubt you even remember it."

He was right there. She didn't remember it. The talon shaped mark on her left shoulder was barely visible and she doubted the owl remembered it either. But she had more than enough memories of him screaming to alert him or Libby to her every move. That was much more recent.

"Anything for me?" Hermione joked.

"Actually," he smirked. "Yes."

"Wait, really?" Hermione's interest peaked. "Everyone I know is here."

"Hermione," he raised an eyebrow. "How old will you be in September?"

"Ele-Oh!" she resisted the urge to call herself a retard. "July 17th. Coming a little late, eh?"

"Professor McGonagall prioritized sending letters to the children who didn't know for a fact they were attending," he handed her the letter.

Hermione carefully peeled back the wax seal, delicately handling the yellow envelope feeling the weight of a heavy stone set in her chest. Years of watching everyone attend classes and control their own lives, she was finally among them! Unless...did the school send rejection letters? What if she wasn't...no, she had read everything she could get her hands on, she knew magic in and out...but when was the last time she had subconsciously cast? Something magical children were supposed to do often. Maybe she...

"I promise, it's not going to bite you," her father said.

"I have literally seen letters do that," she gingerly removed the letter and sighed in relief.

Miss Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted...

Hermione combed through the letter several times to ensure it was real. It was McGonagall's handwriting, she knew each professor's handwriting intimately. The words didn't change as she re-read the letter. She was accepted. Long name and all.

"I don't think I've seen you read anything so slowly since you've learned how to read," he said suddenly leaning over her shoulder.

"Gah!" she jumped before sighing. "Why do you always do that?"

"To teach you the dangers of hyper-focusing," he shrugged.

"Lesson taught, Professor," she groaned returning her focus to the letter.

"So it's 'Professor' now?" he sighed dramatically. "You wound me, daughter!"

"Oh, I wound you?" she smirked. "I'm such a petulant child!"

"Whatever will I do with you?"

"I'm sure Mr Filch might have some ideas."

"That he would," he rested his hand on the top of her head.

Hermione returned to the letter and began through the shopping list. "Are we expected to duel wield wands now?"

"Expected to what?"

Hermione slipped to beside him and showed him the list where "1 wand" was found twice in the list of required supplies. "Professor McGonagall might need to get an editor."

"You should not have shown me this, love," he smiled.

"Why?"

"I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from holding it over her."

"I will never understand your rivalry..." she sighed.

"Once you're sorted you might," he said combing through the letter. "I swear the reading list hasn't changed since I was in school. Is there a house you're hoping for?"

"Honestly," she mused. "I feel like separating us according to personalty so young just breeds rivalries. I don't recall seeing many people socializing outside their houses."

"You're not wrong," he said. "It's going to take forever to get you sorted though."

"Because I think house divisions are stupid?"

"Precisely," he smiled. "We'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get what you need."

"Wait...We?" Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She was finally going to see something beyond the school grounds! She had a firm picture of her mind of so many places from books she read. But the idea of being there astounded her. In the thick of the bustling town surrounded by wonders at every turn.

"Yes, we," he said. "I can't guarantee that you will get the right wand if you're not physically handling it."

"Oh my God," she gasped. "I-I've never been off the school grounds before...Dad, this is fantastic!"

"Such a rush to leave the nest?" he looked over the papers.

"I doubt one afternoon with you at my side counts as leaving the nest, Dad," she smirked over the copy of the Prophet.

"Sure, tomorrow it's a single afternoon with me, but next you will be off in the world only writing your poor old father twice a year!"

"I'm sure you're skipping some steps there," Hermione offered. "Before I start only writing you twice a year I'm going marry a man twice my age that we both despise after a few terrible decisions that lead to an unplanned pregnancy."

"Don't even joke like that, Hermione Elizabeth," his tone turned from dry sarcasm to icy, slow and deliberate. "You've just successfully listed the worst fears of every parent with a daughter. Have you any idea just how many young women succumb to the very same fate you've just described?"

"No, sir," she said putting down the paper. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"I suggest you start!"

"Yessir."

After breakfast Hermione left to work on the mural. She hated the project more than ever. It occurred to her that there was no way someone couldn't dispel the enchantment on the graffiti. They were keeping her busy to keep her from figuring out whatever the hell they were doing. Whatever they were plotting for or protecting, they had successfully ensured she was far from the action. The worst part was, they could have easily kept her busy with potions prep, magical creature care and greenhouse work. All this achieved was keeping her in one bloody place.

Hours passed and she now had two neat lines of trees converging on the horizon and a rocky underground cavern with a pool of silvery water. Now she could start on the damn tree roots. She fancied she could have them done before her eight o'clock curfew. If she ignored her desire to sit and read, she could finish the damn thing in the week. All she had to do was spend all of her time not working on chores on the mural.

Hermione began mixing a brown and planned it out. If she could finish it this week, she would have a month and a bit to read through her school books and practice. The plan was to practice until she could do anything asked of her flawlessly. She would settle for nothing less than having memorized her entire reading list before school. Hermione was the daughter of a famously unlikeable teacher, she had trouble talking to people, and she knew she wasn't exactly pretty. Correction, she knew she was hideous. However, she would be good at magic. She would settle for nothing less.

A hooting sounded from behind her and she looked up to see Archimedes circling before landing on her arm.

"Are you here to spy on me or do you have a letter for me?" she asked before noting the piece of parchment tied to his leg. "Why, thank you, Archimedes. I brought exactly zero peanuts with me."

The owl narrowed his yellow eyes at her, which prompted Hermione to stick her tongue out at him.

"Let's see what my sweet loving father has to say, eh?" Hermione unfurled the parchment.

Hermione,

My meeting with the headmaster has become a day-long affair, possibly going into the evening. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that a curfew is the time to be back home, not leave for it! Be back in our living quarters before eight! I will know if you don't!

No need to reply,

Dad

"I have never seen such abuse of underlining and exclamation points! I assume he will know because you're such a brave owl doing your duties," Hermione chuckled. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, bird brain."

Archimedes rotated his head completely before leaning in, his beak touching her nose and eyes once again narrowed.

"You have your eye on me, I get it."

Hermione began with the roots, sitting on her knees. She sang in French under her breath or whistled bits of song here or there as she worked. All the while she mentally reviewed facts from Hogwarts a History or Laws of Magic Vol 1. She would be ready for any challenge that came her way...so long as it was magical or academic in nature. If she buried herself in her work it wouldn't matter if nobody liked her. If she needed to have someone to talk to, she supposed that's why she kept a journal. Failing that she had annoying, gluttonous owls.

"What do you think, Archimedes?" she gestured to the completed root system. "It's my testament to never painting a damn mural again! Especially when it's obvious that the mural is completely unnecessary and they just want to keep me in one place!"

Archimedes didn't respond but merely looked at her while she scratched the top of his head.

"I call it 'I honestly would rather be doing anything else, but shit, I promised'! It's a long name, I know," she shrugged. "I'll have to workshop it."

She took a step back and examined the painting. She hated it. It had somehow looked different in her mind, but here it just looked like hours that she would never get back. It wasn't even worth the hours she spent. Clumsy strokes could be spotted, the rocks seemed wrong, having the water ripple and reflect the stars but nothing else beneath a silver sheen looked lazy to put it nicely, and if she really thought about it, the sky was not a good enough replica of the northern night sky. "I don't know if I can fix this...I think I liked the graffiti better."

The owl tilted his head from the ladder and looked at her.

"I'm not a perfectionist! If I were a perfectionist I would paint over the whole bloody thing and start again! So, there!"

Archimedes leaned in close to her face again.

"It's good enough. If I close my eyes," she rolled her eyes. "You have got to be bored. What do you want to do?"

Archimedes, being an owl, said nothing.

"Strong silent type, huh?" she said leaning in. "You only have to put up with me doing this for a few more hours. Then I will give you a bucket of peanuts. Okay, not a bucket, you caught me!"

"Are you entirely well?"

Hermione turned to see Professor McGonagall standing behind her. The tall older woman looked concerned behind her square spectacles, but also amused. A shock of white in her black hair betrayed her age, and despite her severe bun and face, a kindness was belied by her actions. Not that she would ever tell her father, but she expected McGonagall would be her favourite teacher.

"I'm sorry, Professor?"

"You've been talking to that owl for quite some time."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she called the owl to her. "I suppose I just get lonely-er-I mean-" Hermione's face flushed more and she wanted to sink into the ground and never emerge. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you not to paint over what you have," she smiled at the awful painting. "And that you should definitely workshop the title."

Hermione was glad for the bushy, paint-covered locks covering most of her face. She was certain it would be as pink as Hagrid's umbrella.

"I've heard your father yell at you enough about watching your language," McGonagall shrugged. "I'm not about to lecture you about that. You don't have to stare at your feet in shame, girl. It's no way to go through life."

"Sorry about that, Professor," Hermione knelt and scrambled to pick up her brushes and pallet. If she were doing something, she might have an excuse not to make eye-contact. She had no idea how to respond to that, and the comment about being lonely still filled her with shame."I actually just remembered I forgot a pigment, I'll have to go get it."

"Are you looking forward to school?" she asked helping her pick up the supplies. "I imagine other children will make better company than an owl."

"It would be nice if I had some practice speaking to other children," she admitted with a sigh. "But what doesn't kill you, right, Professor?"

"What about the Yamato boy?"

Hermione paused. That earned her undivided attention. "Yamato?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed behind her lenses as she helped her off the ground. "Hiro Yamato? The Headmaster of Mahoukatorou's grandson started school last year. Professor Dumbledore arranged for you two to correspond?"

"Oh!" Hermione smiled. "Hiro-kun! Yes, of course we've been writing. But where it's a correspondence I didn't really think about it. You're right, of course, Professor, it will definitely help me learn how to relate to others my age. I'm sorry, Professor, I just remembered I have to go. If I don't this little guy's going to report back to my father."

"Mage-bred owls are fiercely loyal creatures. I told your father that once you've started school, he won't know who to be loyal to."

"Oh, he'll know," Hermione joked. "I can only get him to listen to me with bribes. Oh, and Professor?"

"Yes?"

"If my father gives you a hard time about writing '1 wand' twice in the list, just ask him how he came to that observation." Hermione turned. "I really have to go, sorry, professor!"

Hermione rushed down to their living quarters. She frantically tore through the bookshelves, flipping through each book, not missing a single page before placing them back as they were. She wasn't sure how long she had spent combing through the books, but it was dark before she finished. Nothing in or behind the books on the bookshelves, she turned to the mantle. Archimedes stared at her while she combed through the items. Nothing was underneath or behind them.

"You're right!" she said hitting the ground. "I'm looking in the wrong place!"

She sifted through the ashes in the fireplace searching for anything that could be construed as mail. Shards of glass from communications between fireplaces seemed to be the only thing sticking out of the glass. She very nearly gave up when she found it. Maybe, it was a charred corner of a piece of paper. She gently lifted it to examine it for writing, but it fell apart under her breath.

"Damn it," she sighed.

She washed her hands and returned to the table with a lit candle, quill and paper. She could send it to the school, it was still July, she could still get in touch with Hiro Yamato. She wondered how good his English was. Should she know Japanese? She was clueless. She dug out her notebook and her books on Spanish, Italian, Latin and Greek. Something she could hide behind.

Dear Yamato-san Hiro,

I know you've been writing for the better part of the year. I'm so sorry! Many of the letters were lost. I just received one today. I don't know how many I missed or how many you've written. If you would still like to write each other, I would be thrilled. The idea that there's someone else out there raised like me, it's a relief to know. I don't know what I should say, but I'd really like to get to know you.

Yours,

Hermio

The click of the door unlocking caused Hermione to jump and scribble into the paper. She quickly covered the letter with her work and set herself to look busy at work.

"Here before seven?" her father said entering the room with an armload of books. "I'm surprised."

"I believe you said that I was to be back before curfew," Hermione shrugged returning to scrutinize Latin conjugations. "How was your day?"

"It was all quite boring, I assure you," he scrutinized her book on Greek letters.

Please don't look at the others...

"How many languages are you looking to learn?" he scoffed.

"Yes," she smirked.

"Latin languages will be easier for you given how young you started French, but Greek won't be easy. Useful though," he combed through the pages. "Ogham, Futhark, Egyptian and Mandarin will have similar uses. But I promise you'll go mad if you try to learn them all. Your efforts are much better spent on reading your class books. Which I took the liberty of collecting."

He dropped the books on the table with an audible thud, which ruffled Archimedes's feathers.

"Thank you, sir," she said smiling at him.

"Of course, love," he said ruffling her hair. "Now, why don't you tell me what you think you're hiding from me?"

How the hell...? Hermione's eyes darted around the room. Where had she messed up? The books were all placed back, the fireplace was pristine, no traces of soot on her hands and feet...

"We both know this will be much easier if you just admit to it, Hermione," he said coolly.

Hermione gave up trying to figure out how he figured it out and sighed. "I found out about the headmaster arranging for me to correspond with Yamato Hiro from Mahoutakoro."

"And you're wondering why I hid such a wonderful opportunity from you, is that it?"

"Actually," Hermione took in a deep breath. "Yes."

Her father folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. "Hermione, the boy is halfway around the world. His English won't be good enough to understand what you write, and unless there's something I don't know, you don't know Japanese. What good could possibly come of this?"

And what harm could come of it? Hermione thought but kept her peace.

"And if you're wondering what harm could come of it," he began and Hermione shrank in her chair. "It would do nothing but distract you from your duties. I can't have you failing your classes because you're preoccupied with some boy. A preoccupation you are far too young for, mind you."

"Understood, sir," she nodded.

"And yet there still seems to be something going on in that little head of yours," he mused.

"I don't understand why you think I'll be so distracted with a single quill-mate that I'd let everything I worked so hard for fall to the wayside," she admitted. "What do you expect to happen if by some miracle I make a friend or two in my class? Are you suggesting I isolate until I graduate?"

"The tone, little girl!" he snapped.

"Sorry!" she said reflexively.

"I don't see why you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry, Dad," she sighed making eye contact with him. "Just disappointed."

"I crave your pardon?"

Hermione wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. To make like a cat and dart into the nearest bush or under a bed. She inhaled sharply and clasped her hands together, digging her nails in the gaps between her fingers. Somehow, she found her voice and the ability to stand erect. "I'm disappointed that you couldn't at least explain to me why you refused. I just want to know why you don't trust me to do what literally everyone else on the planet does. Am I not good enough?"

A long silence passed with the two of them staring at each other. Hermione waited with bated breath, hoping for the answer. Maybe she could find some way to prove herself to him.

"It's not you I don't trust, Hermione," he sighed, lifting her face. "But you've proven yourself over-eager to please. Something that I had sincerely hoped you would correct this year. This world will take everything from you if you continue to prostrate before anyone who gives you the time of day."

"Sorry, sir," she said collecting her notes.

"I don't want an apology, little girl," he sighed.

Hermione looked into his black eyes feeling like a confused child. He seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking simply by looking at her, but no matter how she scrutinized his face, speech and movements, she could never understand what she was supposed to do. She tried so hard, and at least with the house-elves and other adults she could figure out the right thing to say or do. Why was she so clueless with her own father.

"And you're still working out the perfect thing to do or say," he said, more warmly than before. "It's late, little girl. Why don't we eat and you can head off to bed?"

"You are useless," Severus snapped at the sleeping owl on his perch. "You had one job."

Archimedes was supposed to alert him to Hermione leaving their living quarters. Yet the bird was silent, sleeping soundly while Hermione was off God knew where. Between the two of them how could she have evaded them? She probably bribed the gluttonous owl. And though Severus was a remarkably light sleeper, Hermione had seemed to figure out how to avoid waking him. How often had he woke up to see the girl padding barefoot through their own living quarters like an unwelcomed cat?

And how much of that is my own doing? he wondered leaving for the kitchens.

"No, Professor," Libby said while beating a bowl of eggs. "Miss Hermione has not been here this morning. Libby hasn't seen Miss Hermione since yesterday morning, sir."

"Very well," he sighed. "Thank you, Libby."

The library wasn't open yet, so he could easily cross that haunt off his list. You idiot, you know exactly where she is!

"It's not even six o'clock yet!" he called up to her.

What is it with this child and ladders?

"Gah!" she jumped, dropping her palette and splattering brown paint on the wall and clinging to the ladder for dear life. "I hate heights," she groaned.

"And yet you climb like a damn squirrel," he commented, steadying the ladder as she descended.

"Don't let the buckteeth and bushy hair fool you, Dad," she sighed reaching the ground. "I'm more like a cat, I'm fine so long as I don't realize where I am. Which makes this-" she gestured to the mural before picking up her pallet and brush. "Just so much fun."

"I'm certain there's a lesson here in making lofty promises..." he mused.

"Please, tell me this isn't some elaborate lesson," she groaned. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, but I wish you did," he sighed. "I was worried. I had no clue where you were."

"I left a note on the table telling you exactly where I was," she offered.

How the hell could I have missed that? "I see," he said lifting her chin. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that upon seeing my child was missing I would miss something as small as a note?"

"Sorry, sir."

"I don't see why you have to be out this early."

"The sooner I finish it, the sooner I never have to look at it again."

"I hate to break it to you, love," he said turning her head to face it. "But regardless of when you finish it, you will be looking at it for the next seven years. So will everyone else."

"Perfect!" she scoffed. "The headmaster couldn't think of anything else to keep me out of whatever you're doing?"

"Hmm," Severus mused. "Maybe this was an elaborate lesson in over-committing. But nonetheless, you did commit to it, so you'll have to finish it before summer ends. I raised you to keep your word."

"And I will," she assured him. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Dad."

"Just don't do it again," he huffed. "Come along now."

"I'll be right behind you. I just have to fix this and clean up first," she picked up her pallet and brush before staring up the ladder as if it were the Whomping Willow.

Severus disappeared the paint from the floor and errant wet paint from the wall. "Fix what?"

"Omigod," she sighed with relief. "You're a lifesaver."

"You haven't the half of it," he ushered her forward. "You'll have to start adhering to school hours before long. And for the love of God, you haven't any clue what you might be stepping in, wear shoes."

"Yessir," she said.

Severus wasn't getting back to sleep at this point. He was used to strange hours, but with his portion of the protections done, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit looking forward to another hour or two of sleep. He could dose himself with a sleeping draught, but he didn't like the idea of being unable to wake if something happened. Perhaps confessed Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban and into the school weren't likely, but he couldn't shake the idea it might happen. More mundane matters also kept him from sedating himself. Sure, Hermione was well now, but the sick infant with a blue-grey cast to her skin was an image that still haunted him. He leaned over her crib most nights just to be satisfied she was still breathing. Accidents and illness occupied the more reasonable parts of his mind, and his paranoid mind imagined her a target. How the hell did other parents send their children away so young for ten months of the year? He was spoiled; he could keep an eye on her all throughout the year.

He moved it from his mind as Archimedes dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet. He read through the paper. Why strange snake behaviour in France was on the third page and a quidditch victory was on the front page was beyond him. Strange behaviour of an animal linked to the vanquished Dark Lord? Why would that matter more than quidditch? He turned to the obituaries with nothing remarkable. They would have to be vigilant.

"So there was a little girl under all of that paint," he teased as Hermione returned.

"Astounding, I know," she said. "Anything interesting?"

"Not unless you want the latest quidditch scores," he sighed. "I suppose there's also gossip."

"Rita Skeeter hard at work," Hermione scoffed. "Why would a journalist be concerned with current affairs?"

"From the mouths of babes..." he sighed setting aside the paper. "I swear the only thing you've picked up from me is dry-wit."

"Maybe I'll grow into other qualities you want me to have," she offered.

"One can hope," he said. "Do you have everything you need for the afternoon?"

"I'll be ready to leave whenever you are."

"I'll hold you to it. We leave after lunch. Meaning I expect you to be ready before then. Don't go around making promises."

"Yessir," she nodded.

She was true to her word. By the time lunch came around she was paint-free, packed and ready to go. Unsurprising given the girl's reaction to leaving the school grounds. He felt like he could have asked her to be ready by four in the morning and she would've obliged. He wondered if Hermione could adjust to crowds or if she was ready to face potentially hundreds of people milling about. He was confident he could track his own child down in a sea of people. Sure, she was small, but he appreciated the bushy hair, she would stand out if they were separated. He also appreciated her more or less racially ambiguous features. This was the first time the two would be out in public, and he was more than a little nervous someone might point out how little the two had in common.

"There are a few rules I would like to review," he told her as they stood on the far end of Hogsmede.

"Yessir," she nodded.

"You are not to leave my side for any reason, got that, little girl?"

"Yessir," she nodded again.

"You are to speak to no one without my expressed permission."

"Understood, sir."

"Violation of any of these rules will result in spending the entirety of next summer in our living quarters."

"Yessir," she gave another nod.

"Alright then," he knelt down and folded her in his arms. "You're going to want to hang on."

With a snap they disapparated to the entrance of Diagon Alley.

"Fist time along-side apparating," she over heard her father explaining to yet another concerned by-stander.

"Oh, I see," the higher pitched voice said. "poor dear."

Hermione's first time out in the world and she found herself with her head in a rubbish bin with her father holding her hair back. Irony was cruel. What was worse was the feeling of eyes on her. Nausea from apparating was initially triggered her to vomit, but the feeling of stranger's judging stares, the whispers of nosy passers-by made her cringe. This was all before the knowledge that this was the first impression she would be making with anyone in her year. Her stupid stomach had committed social suicide before she even got the chance to get along.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"I think-" no. She once again wretched into the bin.

"You are so lucky most parents of first-years wait till the last minute to go shopping."

Hermione coughed and wretched once or twice more before rising. "You have no idea how happy that sentence just made me."

"I imagine more relieved than happy," he said handing her a kerchief.

"Thank you," she said wiping her mouth and hands. "Any idea where the nearest toilet might be? I need to wash my hands-and probably everything else."

"About a minute or two that way," he pointed.

"A minute?" she sighed. "Sixty seconds was all I had to wait..."

"I've been over-seeing disapparation licensing for a decade, love. I've seen much worse from much older witches and wizards. Let's go, I'll get you some water and will be waiting just outside the door."

Hermione washed her hands, rubbing them fiercely under hot water. She quickly splashed her face with cold water and stared at the face before her. Olive skin flushed pink across her nose and cheeks, her brown eyes watering and red-rimmed, her lips cracked. She did what she could to make herself look like less of a mess.

"How are you feeling?" her father asked as she took a seat at the table he claimed.

She could barely hear him over the din of patrons chattering over tea and coffee. She nearly crept away to spy on what looked like a trio of fifteen-year-olds. If she could see how they behave, she could mimic it. Something she wished occurred to her back when she watched from the window. However, she knew how that would end if she were caught, and she imagined her father was worried.

"Like I swallowed a litre of lye," she muttered taking her cup of water. "Thank you. You said this is normal?"

"Not uncommon," he said feeling her forehead. "You are a touch warm though. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow."

"So I can relive this?" she scoffed. "We're already here, and to be frank, I would like the past century with my head in the bin to be worth something."

"Century?" he scoffed. "Do five minutes constitute a hundred years now? Children have no concept of time."

"So, I engaged in a little hyperbole," she shrugged.

"Even being hyperbolic, I don't see anyone much older than you saying that."

The first thing they did was head to Ollivander's. The store was surprisingly empty with a white-haired lean man humming to himself as he sorted long boxes on seemingly endless shelves. The place was dark, but whimsical, like the used bookshop in a novel she read once.

"Just a moment!" the man sang before near skipping up to the counter. "Severus Snape? I barely recognized you! I suppose it's been twenty years. Yes I remember you and your little friend coming in here all those years ago-"

"I'm not here to take a stroll down memory lane," he said coolly.

"Very sorry, fancies of an old man," he apologized. "What brings you around these parts?"

In that one cut-off sentence Hermione heard more about her father's childhood than she had in nearly eleven years. She wished she knew who his "little friend" was. Inseparable mates from before? Maybe neighbours? Two boys close as brothers? Or maybe it was a girl? Could she be her mother? The only person who's past she knew less about than her father's was her own. Not that it bothered her...not one bit!

She would give anything for the man go on.

"My daughter will be starting at Hogwarts this year." he said running a hand through Hermione's hair.

"Oh very good!" he said. "Come along, dear! I know exactly what to get for you..."

He didn't. Hermione tried three or four wands that had no effect or disastrous effects. She once thought she'd levitated a bottle of ink only to see the thing explode. She shrank under her father's gaze. She felt as though she was throwing away everything she had read about. She had hoped so much that she would be a good witch, but here she was screwing it up.

Worse was the cold reception the kind man got from her father when he had the nerve to ask about Hermione's mother. She began to wonder if he actually had found her in a box of free kittens. She was open to the idea of her being adopted, but the icy comments made anytime someone asked about her origins made her think there was something more personal to her story. She knew better than to ask.

Hermione left with a wand that spoke to her. Something she'd once scoffed at when reading about wandcraft in the library. She couldn't describe it. But she felt she had control with the olive wand and dragon heart-string cord. She felt that she knew what she was doing with that wand. Certainty and control.

The sunbathed cobbled alley-ways twisted between buildings of every shape and colour as people milled about in packs. For the first time Hermione noticed the myriad of scents wafting through the sky. Now that her stomach stopped churning she could appreciate the fairytale-esq district and the feats of magic performed on every corner. Her eyes scanned the area looking for other children, but she could barely focus her attention. She had never seen so many people in all her life, nor had she seen so much happening all at once.

The two weaved through the throng and Hermione found a young woman entertaining a group of younger children with flying glass canaries. The glint of the sun shone golden off their carefully detailed wings. She couldn't wait until she could do something so fantastic. She turned her head to see the tall lean figure of her father disappearing between the crowd.

"Is it normally so busy?" she asked jogging to catch up with her father after her most recent distraction.

"Actually," he mused. "I believe it's normally much worse. Yes, I remember when I was your age I could barely walk a centimetre before running into someone else."

"Really?" she could hardly believe anything would be more packed.

"Must you doubt everything I say, child?" he said taking her hand. "Do try to keep up."

"Yessir."

They came upon a shop called Madam Malkin's. They entered a near empty shop greeted by a plump matronly looking woman with wiry grey hair and dark eyes who was perhaps in her sixties. Though Hermione was a terrible judge of age, so she could be wrong. Her father talked to the old woman, money was exchanged and her turned to her.

"There's something I have to do," he told her with a characteristic lack of detail. "I want you to stay here until I come back. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Alright, little girl," he said resting a hand on her head. "I won't be too long, I promise."

"I'll see you then, Dad."

After he left Madam Malkin lead Hermione in back where she found another girl around her age standing in front of a mirror. She was about a head taller than Hermione, lean and stood with a self-importance that reminded her of girls like Heather George. She turned to face Hermione and her stomach churned at the bemused smile across her face.

The girl wasn't stunning, but she was pretty. She had round dark eyes and a flat nose on a round pale face framed with glossy black hair gathered over her shoulder with a green scrunchie. Hermione had shared one physical trait with the girl, that was almost complete racial ambiguity. Though where Hermione was simply ambiguous, it seemed to her that the girl with the unimpressed smile had features that fit on several beauty standards. She felt this girl would be considered kind of pretty anywhere she went. Hermione knew better, but she was jealous of that fact.

"Hullo," she said, her smile still unimpressed.

"Hi," Hermione nodded to her with a meek smile. First time you're meeting a girl your age. Don't screw this up!

The bell over the door rang and Madam Malkin left them alone to tend to whoever the other customer waiting was.

"By Merlin," the girl said. "I hope you brought a book. This is the third time that woman's walked out on me."

Must be because she's the only one here, Hermione thought but said: "Yeah, that has to be frustrating. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for that hag," the girl rolled her eyes. "Not your fault, now is it?"

"I suppose not," she sighed. "Are you here with anyone?"

"My mother is off doing something or other, couldn't be bothered telling me." she groaned dramatically.

"I just love how grown-ups think we can't handle a lick of information!"

"I know, right?" the girl exclaimed. "Bunch of bloody dolts, the lot of them!"

Hermione moved a lock of hair out of her face and covered her mouth as she faked a giggle. She hoped it looked natural. Hermione didn't think she liked this girl, and she didn't seem impressed with her. But perhaps if Hermione mimicked behaviour she'd seen other girls do than the girl with the unimpressed smile might like her enough to talk to her on a semi-regular basis.

"At least you have pretty eyes," the girl examined her critically. "A symmetrical face too, it's a shame about the hair and teeth. You could have been pretty."

You bitch! It's a shame about your personality, you could have been a decent human being! "Yeah," she laughed with tact. "Genetics, am I right? I'll have to fix it when I'm older." Where the hell is your backbone, girl?

"That's probably a good idea," she smiled and extended her hand. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Hermione," she took the hand with a forced smile.

"Do you have a last name, Hermione?" she laughed.

"It doesn't matter," she shrugged.

"Doesn't matter?" Pansy Parkinson scoffed. "Of course it matters! For instance I'm a Parkinson, so I'm part of the Great Eight wizarding families. I come from a long line of fabulously talented pureblood witches and wizards! Where you come from is like the single most important thing in our world! You must be a bloodtraitor or a mudblood."

"And what if I am?" Hermione hissed. "Perhaps I don't have a name that reaches back to the middle-ages, with famous relatives. But at least I have integrity. Something you and the Parkinsons back to Wilhem Parkinson have lacked since then. Yes, didn't he sell his first wife and daughters out to the Catholic church so he and his at the time lover could flee Scotland with their son? If that's not betrayal at its worst in the wizarding world, I don't know what is. But do enlighten me, heir to fabulously talented witches and wizards!"

"How did you know all of that?" Pansy Parkinson barked.

Bark...now that I think of it, you do look rather pug-like. "Because I'm literate and happen to be inclined to take a book off the shelf once in a blue moon. Something you might benefit from." she said coolly. That might have been harsh, and now you sound like your damn father.

"You stupid, ugly bitch!"

"Oh, I am so hurt!" she rolled her eyes. "Maybe try an insult I haven't heard before. If you're capable. I can wait. I 'brought a book'!"

The two sat in silence waiting for the tailor to return. Hermione sat doing exactly what Pansy Parkinsons had suggested. How many times had she read through the abused copy of Son of Hermes? She started the thirtieth chapter where the three main characters meet in secret to escort a dragon egg to a magizoologist after having fought a trio of harpies. Normally, she would be absorbed but she kept covertly looking at the fuming and now pink Pansy Parkinson.

"Sorry, dears," Madam Maulkin said entering the room.

"Finally!" Pansy Parkinson groaned.

Madam Maulkin worked on Pansy Parkinson's robe first, listening with curt grunts as the girl insulted the tailor. Hermione waited patiently pretending to read her book as she tried to decipher any insecurities that she could use later if they were to run into each other in the corridors, or worse, end up in the same house. So far all she had was that she was too proud of her family history. She thought, as someone with an abundance of insecurities, that it was wrong to hunt for them in someone else, but she hated this girl.

"I am so, so sorry, Madam Maulkin," Hermione told her after she left.

"Oh dear god," a voice from behind her said. "What did she do now?"

That man's timing is impeccable! she groaned internally.

"Oh," Madam Maulkin said. "She was fine. It was her little friend that was a monster."

"Friend?" he asked.

"Friend is a generous word, we just met." Hermione explained. "And I don't think she liked me...or anyone aside from herself for that matter."


	5. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes against Snape's wishes and connects with Hiro, hiding it from him for the rest of the summer. Snape prepares himself mentally for how differently things will be once Hermione's enrolled while coming to terms with areas he fell short as a father.

_Name: Unknown_

_Magical/Muggle?: Witch_

_DOB: Unknown_

_Age: 10-15 months_

_Sex: Female_

_Weight: 3.5 Kg_

_Hair: Brown_

_Eyes: Brown_

_Family History: Unknown_

_History and Condition:_

_Infant girl found in Muggle London Chinatown, likely abandoned. Lungs severely underdeveloped with mild pneumonia. Malnourished, anaemia caused by either respiratory distress or poor nutrition. Signs of gastrointestinal distress. No signs of physical trauma, body temp low.  
_

Ten years had past, which gave Severus the right to claim the file. A strange system, but one he was more than happy to take advantage of it. He read Hermione's treatment course but found his eyes going back to the description of her condition. _Malnourished?_ That didn't seem right. Hermione's birth parents were stupid children, in way over their heads, but he couldn't see them being neglectful to the extent of starving her... _purposely._ He remembered one of the panicked conversations he'd overheard through the thin walls that summer.

_"Why isn't she gaining weight?" Catherine cried. "I've been feeding according to schedule!"_

_"I don't know...Have you tried everything the doctor said? I mean_ everything _."_

 _"Of course I am, Ren! Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "It's not like I_ want _her to be sick!"_

_"For Christ's sake, Cat! No one is accusing you of that!"_

_"You are!"_

_"Maybe if we just-"_

_"NO!" she shrieked. "We are_ not _getting help. We're smart, we can do this on our own. We_ have _to do this on our own."_

_A string of curses and Hermione's cries joined the shouting match as well. Before long there was a trio of distinct voices sobbing. And then Catherine's voice formed words, perhaps louder than she intended:_

_"My mother had four other kids before me. I can feed her myself, my body was made for this..."_

Musing on Hermione's papers, Severus wondered if the girl knew how much damage her damn pride did to Hermione. She was smaller than she should be, she was landed in the hospital and despite their early separation, Hermione was just as neurotic and stubbornly independent as her birth-mother. Not that her birth-father was any better, both were self-destructive in their pursuits and Hermione didn't seem to rise above it.

"Though, of course _your_ pride and neuroses have done no damage whatsoever to the girl," a voice teased. "No, you've been father of the goddamn year."

"I'm dreaming..." he sighed turning his face from the burning emerald eyes staring him down.

"Does that make me wrong, Sev?" Lily leaned over his desk and turned his face to her. "If this is your dream and I'm saying this, what does that say about you?"

"That I need to stop working before bed," he murmured before rising and gathering the files. "I know it's not you. Lily was never so cruel."

"Perhaps I was," she said following him. "All you have are memories of an idea. Can you honestly say that you _knew_ me."

"I knew _her_ ," he spat. "All you are is-"

"A figment of your mind?" Lily hissed grabbing his arm with cold talon-like hands. "Almost ten years since the real me died and I'm still kicking around in your brain almost every night. Why do you think that is?"

 _Ignore her...ignore it! She's not real._ His stomach churned and a chill ran down his spine. Every fibre of his being fought to move away from her, but he couldn't tare his eyes from the replica staring daggers at him. He knew exactly why she haunted his dreams for so many years. She didn't need to say it.

"You killed us. You knew that long before we actually died," she spat. "Your attempts to save us were as useless as you are now."

"I know..." he sighed. "If I knew then what I know-"

"Oh, save it!" Lily snapped. "This is _your_ dream remember? I'm a manifestation of your guilt and you know exactly what that means."

Icy tendrils clutched at Severus's heart and lungs. This was all fake, but he could feel the tears beginning to form and his throat tighten. He could separate the form before him from the woman he loved, but despite the clearly different dispositions, they had the same voice, same face, same eyes. Even when he had more control of his dreams, he merged the two eventually. "Lily, please-"

"It means that some part of you _knows_ that everything I'm saying is true!" she snapped.

"I know."

"You deserve this!"

Severus woke at his desk, his head buried in the hospital files. He wondered when he fell asleep, but he could tell by the stiffness in his neck it had been a while. He threw the files back together and went to put them in a desk drawer until he could decide what to do with it later.

"For the love of Merlin," he groaned.

When the hell did he start a rubbish drawer? Upon opening the damn thing he was confronted with a stack of journals, unbound papers, rolls of parchment and loose rolling inkwells. At least he had a reason to stay awake...

He emptied it and set about organizing piles according to frequency of use. A vibrant bit of pink caught his eye. Had he really kept that there? He delicately pulled out the misshapen pink paper heart. Two painted stick figures held hands, one drawn in black, the shorter in brown with messy labels reading " _Daddy"_ and _"Me"._ Hermione was just barely four when she drew it, sprawled out on the floor with a slew of paints and paper. When she finished she presented it to him, beaming. Of the few things he kept from those days, he remembered why he kept this in his office. He couldn't look at it without seeing her bright smiling face. The way she looked at him back then, she trusted him so thoroughly.

He lost that trust a long time ago and hadn't a clue how to earn it back. The Yamoto boy was just the latest in a long list of betrayals. Why did he even do it? Everything else he could justify, at least in the moment...but he didn't even have that. He simply didn't want to lose her...but she needed to have someone else in her life eventually. But what if something happened? Such a fragile little thing, and so eager to please or impress; she'd already proven she was willing to defend those who were cruel to her...Was it any wonder he worried about her peers taking advantage of her?

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

It was already sent. She already sent it. Hermione snuck into the owlery that morning before they left and sent the letter to Hiro Yamato. She wondered how long it would take to receive mail and reply. Japan wasn't exactly close. And would he reply? What if got it and thought she was lying about losing the mail? What if he never sent a letter in the first place? They were supposed to be in correspondence since September, it was now July. If he did send one out, he might have stopped a long time ago. Hermione had no proof the recent charred paper was actually from a letter.

What if he wanted nothing to do with her? The first time she met someone her own age it didn't go well. Pansy Parkinson was truly awful. But before she had any evidence that Hermione's personality didn't mesh with her own she hated her. She remembered the unimpressed smile she gave her on sight. At least Hiro would have no idea what she looked like...unlike every student in her year. She had so much working against her, Hermione didn't even know where to start.

All she could do was wait, and she hated it. What if-

 _Stop it. You'll go_ _mad,_ she told herself as she pulled the blankets over her head and curled up into a tight ball. Sleep would eventually come to her. She just had to stop thinking about the damn letter. Hermione hadn't always been a perfect daughter, and she certainly pushed lines with the rules, but this was the first time she'd ever _directly_ went against her father's wishes. She wasn't sure what would happen if he ever found out, but what upset her more was the possibility that he found out and Hiro couldn't be bothered. Then she'll have done all this for nothing.

 _All this, you idiot!_ she admonished herself. _All you did was write a short letter and send it out. Just go to sleep, just go to sleep...Why did I send it? I did this to myself!_ Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. She brought up an image in her head of a book she had recently read. She categorically ran down the list of magical properties of common British woods.

Hermione's mental recitations of readings were interrupted by the muted creak of the door. Had she been asleep or there had been other noise she imagined she wouldn't have heard it. She wondered what he had been doing, but she wasn't sure if she'd be caught if she craned her neck out to the living-area. _It's not like he's going to be carrying evidence of whatever the hell he's been doing. Just go to sleep..._

Morning came with the shrill cry of the rooster and Hermione forced herself out of bed. She rubbed her eyes and stretched before seeing a pair of yellow eyes facing her from the head of her bed.

"Aren't you supposed to be nocturnal?" she hissed under her breath.

Like Hermione and her father, Archimedes didn't seem to have consistent sleep and wake times. Something that irritated Hermione as it often was necessary to bribe him before sneaking out. Considering her inconsistent sleep, she wondered if that was evidence she might be related to her father. She knew she shouldn't care about that, or who her biological mother was or possibly biological parents were. Hermione might not have had the most normal upbringing or family, but they still cared for each other and she didn't want him thinking he wasn't good enough. He was...she just wanted to know where she came from.

"Good morning," her father peered over the paper.

"Morning, Dad," she stifled a yawn with her hand. "This is unusual."

"You mean a morning where you haven't scampered off to some unknown corner of the castle?" he asked. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I hardly have the energy to 'scamper' before seven," she smiled and sat opposite him.

"Yet other words I might use such as 'crept' or 'snuck' would imply you were trying to evade detection," he set the paper down. "That can't be it now, can it?"

"Why, father," she gasped dramatically. "You would accuse me of such mischief? I'm deeply wounded."

"Of course not, love," he smirked. "I'm _implying_ it."

"If the teaching thing doesn't work out you should try stand-up."

"That'll happen the day you become a professional quidditch player," he turned the page. "Oh, look, there's an opening on the Irish team."

"Oh, hardy-har-har," she groaned in response. "I take back what I said about you doing stand-up."

"I'm simply devastated," he said. "You used to be such a sweet little girl. I haven't a clue what happened."

"Why do I feel like every parent says that as their child gets older?" Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What's on the docket for today?"

"The headmaster has made his decision on the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher so he'll be announcing that," his tone told her he once again didn't get it. "And then we'll be updating syllabi and safety procedures."

"That sounds like a lovely way to kill eight hours," she sighed. "I wonder how this one will be ousted. I bet they resign before Exams."

"What makes you say that?" he raised a curious eyebrow.

"I only really remember the last six professors, Let's see," she began to count on her fingers. "Professor McCleary retired at the end of term, Professor Jackson left in May for an emergency of some kind, Professor Adams literally left without a word on the first week of June, then Professor Archibald didn't come back in January after break, there was Professor Wren who stayed the term, but then last year Professor Izin had...well you know the details better than I do, but he also left in May."

"I remember, Hermione," he said. "I was there too. Your point is?"

"My point in just my memory there were four out of six that didn't make it to the exam period," she mentally tallied the numbers. "That's a sixty-seven percent chance they quit before exams and a 100% chance they don't make the year. With a margin of error of course, and sixty-seven isn't much higher than fifty, but given what information I have I'm pretty confident."

"I've raised a hustler," he groaned. "You would do well to keep your predictions to yourself. I won't have whoever the new hire is crying to me because I've raised a monster."

"Good as forgotten, sir."

"Very well," he rose and placed his hand on her head. "I'm off. _Behave_."

"Yessir," she nodded.

Once he left Hermione dug out her copy of _Standard Book of Spells Grade One_ and began practising the charms in the first chapter. What was supposed to be a day divided into painting, leaning Japanese (it was hard to find any books when raiding the language section of the library, and it like most, concerned itself with survival and magical language), and practising quickly turned into a day where she had spent obsessively practising each spell in the book, much like she did when learning the flute (something Hagrid had made for her "ter pass the time" when she was five, something she imagined drove poor Libby mad when she finished her lessons!). She had practised several spells several times until she saw the room grow darker. She quickly activated the lights, put her wand away and began obsessively note taking on technique and pronunciation.

By the time her father came home she had pages of notes (hastily taken albeit) at her side and she was bent over the fourth chapter, combing through it a second time whilst taking notes.

"You'll ruin both your eyes and your posture if you continue like that," he locked the door behind him.

Hermione sat erect and snapped her head up to meet him. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize to me, love," he combed through her notes. "You'll be the one regretting it before you're twenty."

"Yessir," she nodded.

He set the notes down and moved a strand of hair from her face. "Can we try to be a little less obsessive? I know too well what sort of damage this behaviour can cause."

She wondered what he meant by that, but knew she would never get a real explanation. "Yessir."

* * *

Days passed. Hermione finished the mural, thankful she now had access to magic that she used while the teachers were locked away in the staff room. She was thrilled to spend the rest of her time practising and reading through her school work. She had found a passage off the south wall of the library that she could shut herself up in with some candles.

Hermione could light, extinguish and levitate her candles, she felt ready to tackle transfiguring them before long. Taking long, deep breaths she visualized a long shaft of obsidian forming from the wax. Each droplet of wax crystallizing to shiny, cold, black stone. _I can do_ this... she recited the incantation and went through the instructed motions. Before her where a lit taper stood was now a shaft of obsidian. Her heart leapt. She even stated on a flame that would hopefully eat-away at the candle more slowly and not burn as hot. That was coming along slowly, but she didn't let herself get discouraged.

All of the principles of magic she studied. The Latin, observing students through the window, the laws, it was all coming together. Something she was so frightened she'd struggle with, she now felt flow through her with ease. Everything worked, Hermione was in complete control. This, this she could do. Now, for another task she felt she might fail at.

"I don' like this, Hermione," Hagrid told her. "I've never been ter good at keepin' secrets, y'know."

"Oh, _please_ , Hagrid!" Hermione begged. "If there's anything I can do for you or help you with I will!"

"Ya should be studyin', Hermione" Hagrid chuckled. "No use of that big brain of yers goin' ter waste grabbin' blast-ended skrewts."

Hermione scanned the one-bedroom hut for anything she could use. Hagrid lived humbly, she couldn't offer to clean for him, exercise Fang or do help with any of his duties. Anything he wasn't determined to do himself, was off the menu. He loved teaching Hermione about the creatures in the forest, but her father had seen a quick end to that. All she had now was the reflection of a perplexed girl staring back at her from her tea.

"I'll do _anything!"_ she pleaded. "I'm not too proud."

Hagrid chuckled. Not cruelly, but with warmth. Everything the giagantic shaggy, black-haired man did radiated warmth. She wondered how she could have ever been afraid of him. He was simply the sweetest person she'd ever met and shuddered to think at the unfair treatment he received from those around him.

"I think the professors puttin' money on you endin' up in yer father's house will be mighty disappointed," he smiled.

"Wait," Hermione put down her tea. "Professors are placing bets on how I'll be sorted?"

"I shouldna said tha'!" Hagrid groaned. "Please, don' tell anyone?"

That! There was her moment, she could use that to...no, she couldn't blackmail Hagrid. She'd have to just get him to agree on his terms. "Of course, Hagrid."

"I suppose," Hagrid smiled stroking his bushy black beard. "If you can keep a secret fer me, I guess I can do ya a favour."

"Honest?" Hermione squeaked leaping from her barrel. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

"I though' this was ter be a secret?" he winked.

Hermione's face flushed and she buried it in her hands.

"I'll take yer young lad's letters and we'll exchange them at the library."

"Honestly, Hagrid, you have _no_ idea how much this means to me," she smiled and held his hand. "Thank you. So if you need any-"

"I won' hear nuthin' of tha'," Hagid chuckled again. "Ya better get goin' before yer missed."

"Right!"

* * *

"I am _not_ giving you tips on which house to bet on, Flitwick!" Severus snapped. "We _all_ know we have much more pressing matters to attend to."

The tiny man flushed and stared at his feet. God, Hermione must've only been six or seven by time she surpassed him in height. Any shame he felt was more than deserved. To bet on a child's future like that. Not that Severus was the epitome of appropriate when it came to the treatment of children, he knew that. But they were betting on _his_ child's future. He imagined the poor girl would be simply devastated to find the adults around her behaving in such a manner. If they wanted a spectacle, they had one in Potter, they could leave Hermione the hell alone.

"Anyone else looking to place bets on where a first year is likely to be sorted can search for other candidates," he addressed the room with an exaggerated eyeroll. "I can think of one at least."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You can hardly blame us for our curiosity? I myself have a couple galleons riding on Gryffindor."

"I'm afraid, Headmaster," Severus held back his laughter. "That you will be sorely disappointed." He turned to McGonagall. " _You're_ not mixed up in this nonsense, are you?"

"I assure you, Severus..." McGonagall began. "That I have a galleon on Ravenclaw."

"Don't let the frown fool you," he said. "I'm simply hysterical. Need I remind the lot of you that we are expecting a _very_ important acquisition in a few weeks time? Something that we _need_ to protect-"

"And with all this doom and gloom," Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles making Severus feel like a child being lectured. "We could all engage in a little harmless _nonsense_ from time to time."

"Who is partaking in this nonsense then?" Severus groaned.

Ten years of teaching and Severus had never seen so many hands in the air at one moment. Every teacher had placed bets, even Binns, who he had previously thought incapable of doing anything outside disjointed lectures and leaving his body behind.

The lot of them decided to proclaim their preferred house. Severus would be lying if he said he wasn't amused by the sheer number of people who had made no contact with her betting with certainty that she would be in Slytherin. _You lot are all in for a bit of a shock this fall._ The ones who weren't losing money on an impossibility were solidly betting on Ravenclaw given the girl's love of the library. That was more likely. Dumbledore would be facing the same disappointment as the ones riding on Slytherin. There was simply no way his timid little bundle of neuroses would be sorted into Gryffindor, he couldn't even imagine it. Sprout was perhaps right, betting on her own house, Hufflepuff.

"No one is to say a word of this to Hermione. She would be devastated."

Severus couldn't help but think of the old muggle book _Phantom of the Opera_ when he spied Hermione bent surreptitiously over a book taking countless notes. The thought of her stalking around the stacks and sleeping among the passages came more naturally than he would like to admit. Perhaps she'd take Pince's place upon her graduation. He liked the idea of her being so close, he could ensure her safety that way. Though as easy as it was to imagine Hermione haunting the library like a fictional character, he simply couldn't imagine her grown.

 _I won't have to for sometime,_ he thought as he crept up behind her covering her eyes with his hand.

"Honestly, Dad," Hermione said moving his hand from her eyes. "Did that ever fool me?"

"At one time," Severus sighed placing his hand on her head. "I swear, you used to hang on my every word."

"I also used to drag around a blanket and chew on my hair," Hermione weakly smiled and gathered her books. "Sorry, Dad, I grew up."

"I don't seem to recall ten being considered 'grown' anywhere," he mused. "And I should hope you're not grown yet. You'll be mistaken for a child until you're old. I suppose the hair might add some height though."

"I'm not dignifying that with laughter," Hermione sang despite barely managing to suppress a giggle.

"You already did," he mimicked her sing-song tone and putting an arm around her shoulders as they left the library. "Which I think you might be legally bound to do until you're _at least_ twenty."

"I don't think so," she smirked. "Last I checked seventeen was the age of majority. September first, 1997 and poof, you suddenly have to earn my laughter."

"I'll have you adequately indoctrinated to my way of thinking by then," he teased.

That evening they had both set aside their work to simply hang out and talk. Something Severus could not remember the last time they had done. Both of them were busy and tasks were the ever-present background of their little chats. Shame came over him when he realised the last time he gave his daughter his undivided attention was years ago. Not spying on her, not chastising her, or using tasks to distance themselves. She deserved better from him, but it seemed every time he resolved to do so he fell back into old patterns.

Perhaps she would fair better than he did during her school years. She was sweet, caring, smart and funny. Characteristics he could attribute to some of his own peers that managed to forge lasting friendships and avoid constant abject brutality. If that couldn't protect her from such treatment, he was right there. What could possibly happen?

* * *

_Hermione,_

_We're still in lessons. Actually by time I get your reply to this letter we'll have started our August break. Kaori and I will be back home with my mother. So, we weren't quite raised like you, but it is very hard to be the grandchildren of the headmaster! He really pushes us to succeed, and I'll be starting my third year in April. Clubs will be a necessity by then. Kaori is vice-president of the school paper, so I will probably join that._

_You spend your summers at the school? That has to be lonely! Mamma's what British call a muggle, so we spend summer in Tokyo with her and our friends. I haven't read the_ Son of Hermes _books, but if you start reading_ Mahou Koneko Shoujo! _I'll start on yours. Mine's a manga so it'll be easier for you to read than a novel will be for me! Don't let the letters fool you! It takes me forever to write these in English! Though I'm so happy you're trying to learn Japanese! I've sent a book on Japanese for beginners that might help. Kaori says it might be hard for you to get such things in England. In fact, you might want to read that_ before _you read the manga. fufu!_

_What else can I tell you? I also love cats, I have a calico kitten name Mochi. Growing up with nothing but girls has made me like silly girly things, my favourite snack is...well Strawberry-Green tea Mochi. So, I wasn't creative with my cat's name! Don't make fun of me. My blood type is A, my father was a wizard...I suppose that's obvious given my last letter and my grandfather! I love music and play the piano, and my favourite flower is the sakura. In April the petals fall like snowflakes. So pretty!_

_Hiro_

This was the third letter Hermione received in secret. Reading Hiro's words sent flutters to her heart. Was it the thrill of the secret? Maybe it was the Hiro she imagined. He seemed so sweet and kind. True all she had was three letters, but there was something so sincere and if she were honest, kind of cute about his letters. She was so happy she had to focus on her school work or she would be consumed with the anticipation of his letters. She grabbed her quill and penned her reply.

_Hiro,_

_Japan is so different! Only having one month off and starting term in April? I wonder if the change is overwhelming where you transition between years while you're still boarding. I'm really curious. Pressure to succeed because of family? Oh, do I ever feel that! My Dad's such an academic, I feel like anything less than perfect would be a disappointment. I can't believe I just wrote that! I could scrap the letter and start again, but I feel like I can be honest with you._

_I can't wait to start on Japanese, as you can tell by my letters, it's not great! ha ha! I already can read five languages fluently, but this one's really hard. I'll keep practicing my Kanji though! I don't know if I want to join a school club or not. A school paper does sound neat though!_

_Intimate details after three letters? You might as well start calling me Hermi-chan! Let's see, I don't have any pets, but Dad has an owl named Archimedes, and he is a piece of work! Not cute at all! Snacks...I like fruit, strawberries and oranges. Maybe that's a boring answer. I don't know my blood type, I know that's something you put focus on in Japan, but we don't here. I am curious though, I might ask Dad if he's in a good mood. If not, I won't. I can play the flute, but I'm no great musician. Sakura sounds so pretty! I would love to see them falling as they bloom! My favourite flower, I never thought of it before. I think Lilies are pretty, but I'm biased. One of my middle names is named after them. Of course, my father, being my father, gave me the Latin name of the flower family! Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape. My name is so damn long! Picturing sakura blossoms though, if I ever see them in person, I might change my mind._

_I'll get to work on Japanese immediately!_

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Hermione magically dried the ink and placed the letter in an envelope. She carefully put tucked it into her copy of _Neko Sensei Teaches Japanese: A Guide for Young Language Learners!_ She would read that after she finished practising her Defence Against the Dark Arts spells.

Nearly two weeks since she sent her first letter and Hermione had this down to an art. After breakfast, she and her father left together, she went to the library, he went to the staff room. She would set herself up at a table tucked into the stacks near the passage. She read and worked until Hagrid came with around one with either an update or a letter, and Hermione would give him hers. Once he left, she would go to the secret corridor and practice her spells until four. Then she would slip out, reunite with her father and walk to their living quarters as if nothing happened.

She had to restrain herself from skipping as she left the passage. Two hours passed since she wrote her reply and she was absolutely giddy about giving it to Hagrid to send off the next day. Some part of her knew not to be so damn flighty, Hiro might have been nothing like his letters after all. And it's not like the first person close to her age she had extended contact with was a smart decision for her little crush, but... _Damn, I will never meet this boy and I have a crush on him? I'm such an idiot..._ No amount of chastising herself could change her mind. She felt like someone finally understood her. Like someone finally wanted her. Years of being a pest, a chore, in the way, and now someone was excited to exchange letters with her.

Only three letters in and she was already hoping this would never end.

That was why it hit her so hard when it did.

The next morning Hermione set about her usual ritual. Given the empty state of the library, she made an exception to her self-inflicted rules and started on Japanese. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure there were no witnesses and shuddered at what she knew she must do. She grabbed on of the "rescued" volumes of _Third grade Potions_ that was bound for the fire place (it reminded her a bit of a volume that nearly disitingrated in her hands). She unbound both books and switched the covers. Now someone would have to be reading over her shoulder to know she was reading Japanese. She would have to burn the other book.

With what little she knew, she started a basic letter to go with her English one.

_Hiro!_

_This might not be good. I started learning Japanese. I can know kanji, hirigana and romanji for some basics. Sakura is a super pretty character! I will read the manga in its Japanese and send a reply with my thoughts. Even if it kills me!_

_Until Later,_

_Hermione_

She dried the ink and lovingly placed in her envelope. She couldn't wait for Hiro's reply. She had to stop herself from foolishly beaming at Hagrid when she spied him approaching her table.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Hermione took out the letter. "How are you doing?"

"I-erm-" Hagrid struggled. "I've get some bad news, Hermione."

"Are you okay?" Hermione leapt up and began examining the massive man.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he chuckled, ruddiness returning to his cheeks. "I just have ter-erm-Dumbledore's got me on a special assignment, ya see."

"Oh," Hermione forced a smile as her heart dropped. "Which means you can't help with the letters anymore."

Hagrid's black eyes glinted with warmth and understanding, but also turned away from her. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine!" Hermione squeaked with a grin. "The headmaster is trusting you with something important. I completely understand! Really, it's awfully selfish of me to expect you to play owl between us. Honestly, it's okay!"

"Yer don' seem too-"

"Hagrid, I'm _fine!_ " Hermione insisted. "You worry far too much."

"Are ya sure abou' tha'?"

"Yes!" she squeaked gathering her things. "I just-erm-I'm not feeling very well. I-er-I have to go!"

Hagrid knit his bushy black eyebrows in confusion before taking her hand. "I can send the letter you have. But yer okay, aren' ya?"

If Hermione looked half as shitty as she felt then he knew the answer. Her face flushed warm, and she imagined it looked something like sakura petals, her chest tightened and her heart throbbed. She felt dizzy, like all the days she spent working instead of feeding herself caught up to her at once. Was disappointment always so crippling? It wasn't as if he'd be gone forever, once he was back they could pick up again, but what if Hiro took the pause... _You stupid little girl,_ she chided herself, _it was three letters. This won't change a damn thing and you know it._

"How long will you be gone?" she asked.

"Till September first."

 _September first! That's...It's not even August yet._ Hiro had a whole month of nothing after a whole year of nothing. What if he thought she didn't like him? What if he thought she was upset with him? What if he was relieved he didn't have to send her letters at the behest of his grandfather anymore...That made Hermione's stomach churn.

"Wow," she said. "What's the assignment?"

"I can' tell yer tha'!" Hagrid gasped. "It's a secre' on behalf o' Albus Dumbledore. Meaning no' fer yer ears! Even if yer look like tha'!"

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"Like a unicorn foal, all big eyes an' such," Hagrid teased.

"You caught me!" Hermione laughed. She had no idea she was doing it. "But I'm really not feeling well, so I should get going. Enjoy your trip!"

 _This isn't the end of the world,_ she told herself as she headed to the dungeons. _Just write another letter explaining you have to go dark for a month. Say your family owl is sick, you're supposed to be smart. Just think of something...you stupid piece of shit..._ Hermione never even met the boy. It wasn't Hagrid's fault. It was stupid to be so enraptured after a few letters that she was mad at Hagrid for having a life outside of her cloak and dagger love letters. _Love letters!_ she scorned. "Ugh! I _am_ a stupid bitch!" she muttered to herself slapping her forehead.

"I don't know whether to chastise you for your language or ask if everything is alright."

"Sorry, sir!" she spun around to meet her father's withering gaze. "I'll watch my language."

"And the reason for yourself degradation is...?"

Hermione shouldn't have to justify that. If she was calling herself stupid it was because said, did or thought something stupid. How many times had he himself called her a little idiot? Honestly, she wasn't hurting anyone, so she shouldn't have been chastised for it. "I just can't seem to wrap my head around Gamp's Five Laws. It's written in English, I'm certain. And last I checked I was literate, so I honestly have no excuse."

This was true enough. She had wanted to read the laws to understand the fundamentals of what she did. But reading Gamp's law of Transfiguration _did_ make her feel like a moron...If she was clever than she would understand it.

"Save for the minute fact Gamp's Five Laws is something covered in NEWTs ," he explained moving a lock of hair out of her face. "So you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now can you _please_ mind your damn language?"

* * *

"Honestly, bird-brain?" Hermione's voice groaned.

A squeaky muffled giggle followed. "Archimedes _is_ an owl, Miss Hermione."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just... really like squirrels."

"Squirrels is pests, Miss Hermione!" Libby informed her.

Severus was going to miss waking up to this nonsense. Starting tomorrow he would have nothing but silence in the morning. It was true he could simply start taking meals with the other professors, but he'd miss the daily dose of banter. He wondered if she knew how much silly moments like that meant to him. He wondered if they meant as much to her.

He entered the living area to see what triggered Hermione's disgust. The sight of Archimedes digging at a squirrel's entrails on the windowsill would be etched in the poor girl's mind for at least a week. "What happened?"

"Oh, Archimedes is just reminding me why I don't eat meat, eggs or dairy..." Hermione tried a cool observational tone, but her disgust shone through. She turned back to stare at the gorging bird. "Or anything else... _ever."_

"If it disturbs you so much don't look!" he snapped turning her to face him. "This is precisely what will land you in the hospital again."

"You do know I don't remem-Nope, sorry, I'm going to be sick!" and with record speed she ran off.

"For the love of-" he sighed grabbing his wand.

He moved the squirrel corpse out the window and watched the damn owl pursue it. Severus had considered offering up Archimedes to Hermione's care, but she would not want anything to do with him for at least a while. How the girl could have been handling organs of various creatures since she was four but she couldn't handle the simple sight of a predator catching prey. Didn't she want a cat? Last he checked they ate squirrels too.

"I swear every damn thing makes that girl sick!" he grumbled digging one of many anti-nauseate potions he kept in the cupboard.

"Libby is going to check on Miss Hermione," she squeaked awkwardly.

"Don't bother," he said. "She would never forgive me if I sent you in after her like this."

"Miss Hermione is a very private girl," Libby agreed.

"Indeed."

"And Libby will leave after cleaning the windowsill!"

With a snap of her fingers the blood stains and entrails were gone which was followed by another snap and the elf returned to the kitchens.

Severus knocked on the door. "Are you alright?"

Hermione answered with more retching.

"I'm coming in!" he shouted.

"Please don-" and more sick.

He ignored her. Leaning over her he saw that it was almost clear. _It's not blood,_ he thought in relief. That hadn't happened since her lungs were first regrown. Their concern with her lungs made them miss her other patchwork organs. None of the others had to be regrown, but repaired. Had she been raised with the muggles she might have been fine but with a sickly disposition. At least he had to tell himself that. Even with the repairs he didn't trust Hermione was completely better.

"I swear I'll vomit on you," Hermione murmured with what anger she could muster.

"I promise you've made good on that threat in the past many times," he said kneeling next to her. "It didn't bother me then, it doesn't bother me now. If you've stopped long enough to chastise me, you've stopped long enough to take this."

She nodded and thanked him before gingerly taking vial.

"I certainly hope this isn't a sign that you'll take poorly to the train ride," he teased.

Hermione had barely gotten the potion down when she started once more.

 _You idiot! How did you expect her to react?_ "I'll go get another one. Just stay right where you are."

"Wasn't thinking of going anywhere..." she murmured between heaves.

This was not how he imagined spending their last morning together. Hermione eventually recovered and set about grabbing her things. One trunk, a cauldron and a school bag. Was that really all she had to bring? It wasn't as if she would be truly without if she forgot anything, but glancing round the room he didn't spy anything she would miss. Outside of asking for a cat when she was younger she never really asked for anything. At least nothing that didn't involve her leaving. Yet, he somehow felt he had not truly provided for her faced with the totality of what she carried. Something he never thought he would be bothered by.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" he asked.

"No thanks, Dad, I got this," she smiled.

He smiled weakly at her and ushered her out. "Alright then, let's catch your train."

Standing on the platform they waited for the conductor to let her board. Hermione held the strap of her bag with a white-knuckled grip as she stared at the plumes of smoke snaking upward to the blue sky. She seemed pale, her doe-eyed expression didn't leave when she turned her head down. Torn between staring at the train and her feet, she reached a middle ground, with chin turned down and eyes staring up. It made him think of an injured injured fawn that just just met realised she was on the menu.

"I wonder," he said slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Just what is going on through that little head of yours. Care to enlighten me?"

Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands together. "It's stupid, honestly," she shrugged.

"Are you still worried about that nonsense?" he scoffed. "You'll be fine, love."

"Yessir," she nodded, eyes now fixed on her hands.

"And still you seem unconvinced." _Say something comforting, idiot!_

Hermione continued to stare at her hands as she took to digging her nails into the opposite hand. He watched critically for a moment before she saw her draw blood on one of her fingers.

"What about the other little girl you met at Diagon Alley?" he offered taking her hands. _I swear you're more self-destructive than your birth-mother!_

"Oh yeah," she squeaked a forced laugh. "I'm just thrilled to reconnect with the girl who within a minute of meeting me called me a stupid, ugly bit-Language, oops."

"She called you what?" he softened his tone while examining the red crescent marks on her hands. "What was the girl's name?"

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "You did always say kids are cruel. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

 _I've created a nervous wreck!_ "I wasn't advocating for complacency, Hermione," he sighed closing the open wound. "There's a difference between being prepared and acceptance. I certainly didn't raise some withering wall-flower. Don't 'get used' to chronic mistreatment, love."

"Yessir," she nodded. "You must be so thrilled not to wake up in the morning to me arguing with Archimedes."

Normally he'd chastise her for changing the subject, but he was happy to take the bait. This was a conversation neither of them were ready for. "Well, it certainly kept my mornings exciting."

"At this point I don't imagine there's any harm in bringing up the fact that I know the professors were betting on what house I'd be sorted into," she forced a smile. "What house did you bet on?"

"Nothing, naturally," he said. "I had no interest in taking part in such nonsense. Do you still have no preferences?"

"I'll settle for a house you don't have a pathological hatred for," she laughed more sincerely. "So anything but Gryffindor."

"I do not have a pathological hatred of Gryffindor," he laughed tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know you'll have a much easier time making friends if they _aren't_ convinced you're a sentient hairball. I knew there was a little girl under there somewhere," he chuckled tapping her nose.

"You're hilarious," she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "And name _one_ Gryffindor you actually liked."

"ALL ABOARD!" the conductor yelled.

"We'll talk after you've been sorted," he said kissing her forehead.

"That's cheating," she giggled before hugging him. "I'll see you tonight. Love you, Dad."

"It's not cheating," he said returning the hug. "It's waiting for more data points. I love you too. _Behave."_

He watched her board the train with a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She was in for a _long trip_ to platform nine and three-quarters and back. He didn't see the point in her going when she was already at the school. He supposed Dumbledore had a point in her not standing out during the sorting ceremony, but it cut into what little time he had left. He hated to admit it, but he simply wasn't ready for how different everything would be once the train left the station.


	6. Hogwarts Express and the Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to help Neville find his toad Trevor, and finds that she is already despised among the students on the train before meeting Harry and Ron. Snape is given an unpleasant surprise to see Hermione enter the Great Hall and an even bigger surprise to find where she's sorted!

"Trevor!"

"I got him!" Hermione shouted diving for the toad.

She had a hold of the round-faced boy's toad for about half a second before the bloody thing leapt from her hands and out of the compartment. There she was on her stomach, her reaching hands empty. The girls on the bench opposite them giggled relentlessly as she got to her knees and she turned to the boy.

She couldn't be certain which of the two of them they were laughing at. The boy's round face pinked and his blue eyes threatened to brim over. Hermione had a chance to make a friend here and she completely blew it. He seemed so upset, she just wanted to fix it.

"I got this!" she leapt to her feet. "I promise!"

"Looks like the hairball has a thing for big fat cry-babies!" Pansy Parkinson cackled.

The blond girl and the brown-haired girl on either side of her giggled harder.

"That was uncalled for!" one of the dark-skinned twin girls snapped.

The other blonde girl in between the two twins stopped giggling after both girls shot her a withering glance.

"Ignore them," Hermione squeaked taking the boy's hands. "I'll take the back end, you take the front. We'll cover more ground that way. Besides," Hermione cast a withering glance at Pansy Parkinson. "I can barely hear myself think over that Banshee's wail that qualifies for laughter. Honestly, I'd _rather_ listen to a banshee."

"I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said after they left the compartment, his eyes still downcast.

"Hermione," she smiled. "And we'll find your toad, Trevor was it?"

"Yeah," he said.

Hermione stalked the narrow corridors between the compartments before swallowing her fear and knocking on each of the compartment doors.

"Aren't you Snape's brat?" asked an older Gryffindor girl.

"Katie," A boy with dreadlocks rolled his eyes-Lee Jordan that was his name.

"Can you blame me?" she hissed, obviously unaware Hermione could hear. "Her father's a complete monster and she probably is too!"

Lee Jordan sighed and turned to Hermione. "Was there something you needed?"

"I-er-I" she gulped and turned her gaze to her feet. "Aboylostatoadhaveyouseenone."

"I-what?" answered a tall girl with long black hair. "Could you repeat that?"

Hermione repeated herself after a deep breath and focused on her words. The interaction was both embarrassing and fruitless as they hadn't seen the toad. She wished she could purge it from her memory. She'd read enough about self-memory augmentation to know that was nothing more than a fever dream. The girl named Katie was not the only one to recognize her of the upper year students. None of them were particularly kind or patient. One of the cruellest stood out to her.

All the other compartments so far had been full, but this one only had two third year Slytherin students. One she instantly recognised as Heather George, who had found ways to torment her by muttering to people who would listen when she was around. "I feel just awful for the poor thing, she's a wee bit of a social retard". The other was a boy with long red hair that sat opposite her that Hermione recognized from somewhere. She must have seen him around.

"Oh my God," Heather George laughed. " _You_ aren't starting school _this_ year? Oh daddy's ickle labradoodle is in for a _hell_ of a time."

"Why are you even here?" the boy groaned. "Was everywhere else full or did you finally realize being seen within three metres of you is social suicide?"

"I-erm-" Hermione wanted to find her spine again, but after countless interactions like that she simply couldn't. _Sorry, Dad, looks like you did raise a withering wall-flower._

"O'Malley," Heather George said. "Don't torment the pathetic thing."

Hermione left. If the two saw the toad they probably would have burnt the thing alive just to watch it burn. Small wonder her father kept her locked in her room (more or less) for the past eleven years. They _were_ going to eat her alive!

"You can do this," Hermione told herself under her breath staring back into her own red-rimmed eyes. "You're supposed to be clever, fix this!"

She ran off to the toilet after that last compartment to compose herself. If she kept her head down and her hair in her face, it might not look like she'd run off to cry. _I am so pathetic!_ This was hardly acceptable behaviour and she knew it. She just had to get out there and find the damn toad. Sure, once Neville found out who she was he wouldn't come within three metres of her. But she gave him her word, and Hermione was a lot of awful things, but she would keep her damn promises.

 _Finally, more first years!_ Hermione knocked and slid open the compartment to see two boys her age in muggle clothes surrounded by an assortment of sweets.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "But-er-have either of you guys seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

"Sorry," the dark-haired bespectacled boy said. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Hermione forced a laugh and averted her eyes.

That was when she caught the tall red-haired boy holding his wand over his rat.

"Sorry-erm-" she trailed off. "But are you doing magic? I haven't seen anyone my age cast anything before..." Hermione covered her face. "No, no, forget I said anything!"

"And you're sure you're alright, then?" the red-haired boy grimaced.

Hermione shrank on the spot. What the hell was she doing? Could she fake being okay for a moment? At this rate she would be isolated for the next seven years. She should have just left, and she was about to when the red-haired boy spoke.

"I don't mind if you watch," he offered pointing to the bench across them. "Sit down, then."

Hermione obliged with a weak closed-mouth smile. _Keep it together, girl._

The boy puffed his chest out and cleared his throat. He seemed so certain. She wondered if he was going to transfigure the poor rat, or maybe enlarge or shrink it. That could be amazing! She leaned at the edge of the bench to examine it critically. If the boy was this confident, she would be sure to mimic it.

" _Sunshine daisies..."_

The rat continued to nibble sweets on his lap, still grey and unfazed. The red-haired boy's ears turned pink as he beheld the rat with complete disapointment. "My brother swore it would work..."

"Maybe he lied to you?" Hermione offered drawing her own wand. "Most spells have a base in Latin. Like-erm-" she looked around for something to fix. "Oh! Your specs are broken. Is it okay-erm-if I fix them?"

"Sure," the dark-haired boy said curiously handing them to her. "Not terribly keen on the idea of starting school with cello-taped glasses."

" _Repairo!"_ Hermione recited and the nose piece mended. She gingerly unwrapped the tape to reveal the clean, solid metal beneath. "Here."

"Thanks," he said beaming before putting his glasses back on. "I'm Harry."

 _Wait...Harry Potter?_ she thought. She spied the lightning scar beneath his untidy dark fringe. _I've read so much about you...don't say that! He's probably heard of me too, and I don't want to judge him based on something he doesn't remember. I know how unfair that is..._ She must have been silent too long.

"Yeah," his cheeks flushed pink. "I keep forgetting about that. I-erm-don't really remember anything. I was raised by muggles."

 _And probably not kind ones,_ she thought. He was nothing like what she pictured. Her father got after her for neglecting to eat and blaming her stature on it, but Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter looked legitimately under-nourished. His cheekbones were very pronounced and bony hands protruded from gigantic sleeves. He wasn't short, but he was definitely too lean. And he seemed _kind._ She had expected to be face-to-face with arrogance incarnate, but instead she was met with empathetic green eyes with a desire to shrink away into nothing. Something Hermione knew too well.

"So you probably only have what you've read to go off of," Hermione said. "That can't be easy."

"I-erm-actually haven't really read anything about it either..." Harry admitted.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I'd want to know everything if it were me...You could have any answer you want!" _You have access to the past you can't remember. It's right there at your fingertips. Why didn't you?_

"Well, I'm not you, am I?" Harry snapped.

_Maybe I was wrong about you..._

"Is it somehow his fault he just found out about everything now then, is it?" the red-haired boy scowled. "Sorry we didn't live up to your expectations, little miss Latin. Why don't you run along on your toad hunt, then?!"

Of course he just found out about all this now. _You_ are _a monster!_ If he was raised by muggles who couldn't be bothered feeding him, how could she expect him to have access to the past? "Sorry," she sighed. "I just-" _choose your words carefully and don't cry. This is all your fault, now fix it. Fix something!_ "I'm sorry, to _both_ of you," she stared at her hands and reopened the cut on her finger. "Because of my father's work I've never really gotten to meet other people before. At least not for long. So, I'm kind of-well-a bit of a social retard. I never know what to say." _Why'd you say that?_ "Shit! Forget I said anything! Just if you see a stray toad, there'll be a first year boy with black hair and blue eyes named Neville. He'd appreciate it. I have to go."

"A bit mad that one, isn't she?" the red-haired boy said before she was out of earshot.

"Ron!" Harry hissed.

A fruitless search and hours later Hermione heard the squeal of the train breaks, the momentum jerked her forward and she fell to her knees. "Shit," she muttered. She tried to get to her feet but fell over as the crowds pushed forward. Older students walked through or over her in droves as she tried to squeeze between them.

"FIRS' YEARS!" a familiar voice called.

She weaved her way through to the place where first years were supposed to gather and bumped into Neville.

"Did you find him?" he asked with a small voice.

His blue eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he wavered between despair and hopeful. Was that what she looked like when others compared her to a baby creature? A dry lump formed in her throat as she bit her lip and dug her nails into the back of her hand. She had _one_ thing to do and she screwed it up. She could barely stand his disappointment. But now she had to sit next to him on a boat and feel it.

"I'm so _so_ sorry, Neville!" she said.

"Thanks for helping me look, though," he smiled at her.

_I failed...why are you thanking me?_

Just her luck, Hagrid had guided first years into a boat and Hermione was not only squeezed in with Neville, but the other two they shared the boat with were Harry Potter and the red-haired boy, Ron. Hermione sat with her knees to her chest wishing she could disappear, surrounded by those she disappointed. They all must have hated her so much. Maybe she deserved it.

* * *

 _She's a smart girl, she's a good kid._ Severus told himself as he watched the older students file into the Great Hall. _Whoever she shows up with, where ever she's sorted I am going to be okay with it._ He had been trying to convince himself of this since she left in the morning. He had convinced himself to talk to her about the Yamato boy, it's not like he could monitor her mail now anyway, and a boy half a world away posed no threat. Hermione would be thrilled to hear that, but he also knew he had to be okay with whatever group of girls she found herself in. Other parents didn't have the luxury of seeing what their child was up to, and he had no choice but to allow her the freedoms other children had.

"Y-you d-don't n-normally at-attend th-the s-s-sorting ceremony," Quirrell observed beside him.

They had to assign the position to the old muggle studies teacher, didn't they? Whatever happened to him on the continent, the man acquired more than a stutter. Something was off about him. He would have to keep an eye on him.

"No, I suppose I haven't," he said eyes still on the doors. "Things change, something I imagine you are acutely aware of."

Silence followed that comment.

McGonagall was the next to come through the doors holding her list of first years' names. She paused at the stool and lifted the sorting hat. The forty or so first years followed in after her, double-file before falling into a semi-circular mass. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for Hermione. _I am going to be okay with who ever I find her with. She's perfectly capable-Damn it, baby girl, not_ him _!_

Hermione stood clustered with three boys, all of which towered over her. One had to be the newest Weasley, the fatter of the three huddled in close to her as if the small girl could protect him from something, and the last was none other than Harry fucking Potter. He looked so much like his arrogant prat of a father that he could barely see a trace of Lily.

Severus tried to establish eye-contact with Hermione, but she, of course, wasn't paying attention. Weasley muttered something into Potter's ear and Severus stood corrected. Potter had one trace of his mother, her eyes. Bright green, almond-shaped and so misplaced on his father's features behind those glasses. He made eye-contact with the boy and he winced in response, rubbing his scar.

 _Honestly, Hermione?_ she fell for whatever his little act was, placing an almost maternal hand on his shoulder. She asked him something as well as the Weasley boy. Potter said muttered something. The three of them exchanged glances before Hermione stood on her tip toes to check Potter's forehead. Weasley said something to Potter again and Hermione shrank, muttering something. The boys looked at her sceptically and she shrank further, biting her lip and clasping her hands, likely digging her nails in between her fingers again.

Did she not pay attention? She read all about Potter's father's exploits. _His_ daughter should have known better.

"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called.

Severus turned his thoughts to the almost complete lack of interhouse relations in the school. Hermione would likely never see him again outside of class. That he could live with. After everything James Potter did to him, his son was _not_ going to destroy his little girl's life.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The round face boy cowering next to Hermione stepped up. After what looked to be a few encouraging words on her part and ushering him forward. The two exchanged a glance and she smiled at him. It was so strange to see, almost maternal. At least the coward would be safe for her to be around.

The hat took longer than he expected with him. And he had to suppress a laugh when the Longbottom boy was sorted into Gryffindor. How the hell did that happen? Amusing as it was he lost interest as he returned to watching Hermione and the boys.

"Potter, Harry!"

The boy came forward to hushed whispers from both his cohorts and students at the tables. Was he actually nervous or was he milking the gazes of the idiots around him? Like Longbottom before him, Hermione and Weasley encouraged him to go forward. _Don't fall for it, you're smarter than this!_ Potter must have gotten all the attention he craved as the hat took _forever_ to sort him.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

What a fucking shock! Did it honestly take that long to place the boy? What other prospects did he have? No way he was humble enough to be sorted into Hufflepuff, he doubted the boy had his mother's love of reading, firmly taking Ravenclaw out of the equation, and there was no way in hell someone so self-righteous would be placed in Slytherin.

He joined a loudly cheering table sitting beside Longbottom opposite the Weasley twins. It took an additional five minutes to shut the stupid lot up before McGonagall could continue down the list.

_This is going to be a long seven years._

"Snape, Hermione!"

Hermione did not receive even remotely similar treatment from the Weasley boy. Upon hearing her last name his jaw dropped and he stared at her with a mix of shock and disgust. No kind words or encouraging smile. Just a hissed question he couldn't make out and Hermione slinked forward like a frightened little kitten. She wrung her hands together and shrank beneath the silent glares. He tried to establish eye-contact with her, but her gaze was glued firmly to the ground.

He was right, the hat did take forever with her. Where Potter had no prospects outside of Gryffindor, he could see her being perfectly split between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Trying to suss out whether she was more loyal or wise would be difficult. Hermione had both in spades. Her desire to be invisible, which she was demonstrating quite well, making herself as small as she could, would probably land her in-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_What the absolute hell?!_

"Everything alright, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered. "You look as if you just had vomit flavoured bean."

"Looks like you won the jackpot, headmaster," he whispered trying to keep an even tone.

He watched Hermione slink over to the Gryffindor table. One of the Weasley twins did what the rest of the table seemed to deem unthinkable and flagged her over. She looked up for an instant, and the twins made room between them, where Hermione shrank, once more trying to vanish.

He was not surprised when Ronald Weasley was placed in Gryffindor, and given the boy's incessant chattering in Potter's ear before he was sorted, he was also unsurprised by him sitting next to Potter.

He kept his eyes glued on Hermione through-out the feast. She didn't touch her food and shrank at pointed questions from Potter and Weasley. The new Weasley said something that caused Hermione to cover her face with her hands. _I swear to God, if that boy made her cry..._

One of the twins said something to Weasley-he would have to find away to mentally separate the three- and the boy shrank.

"You're going to have to be gentle with those boys," Dumbledore said wistfully. "I have a distinct feeling those three are going to be very close friends."

_Are you watching the same table I am?_

However, Dumbledore had a way of knowing things. He hoped he was wrong here.

This was going to be a very long seven years, indeed.


	7. September Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione begins life as a student, navigating a social realities she knows nothing about while Snape thoroughly disapproves of her new friendships.

Just her luck, Hermione was the resident ugly girl among two pretty girls. Pavarti was stunning with large black eyes on soft cheekbones and black hair trailing past her waist in a braid and an even medium brown skin. Lavender was pretty with wavy blond hair that fell past her shoulders and rosy cheeks with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.

She didn't care much for Lavender, she was she seemed to have intense emotional reactions that changed like the breeze. She didn't seem like a bad person, she was just difficult to be around. Pavarti on the other hand seem patient and compassionate, though she didn't seem to go out of her way to bond with Hermione. Neither of them did. But they so far only had one night. Things could change.

Hermione descended the stairs into the common room and searched for a sign anyone was there. She spied Fred and George leaving the porthole, tormenting Ron and Harry. She jogged to catch up to them, but they seemed to increase their pace.

 _Maybe it's not intentional_ , she told herself and she mustered the courage to call out to them. "Hey, wait up!"

No response. She knew they heard her, the four of them even looked back, but only quickened their pace after. That stung. George defended her last night. Why was he avoiding her now. Maybe Neville would see her.

Hermione sat next to Neville at the table, but he inched as far as he could away from her. He muttered something about losing his appetite and left.

This was going to be a long seven years.

Breakfast was lonely, but morning break was hell. Every time she tried to join a conversation or a group she was shut out. She told herself she would get used to the sight of others walking away from her, pretending they couldn't see her or hear her. At one point a she was even met with a cliched "must be the wind" from a group of second year girls.

Hermione clutched her books to her chest and decided to make a run for the corridor off the library. She kept her head down and told herself not to cry. If anyone saw that she was as good as dead. She weaved through the corridors until she collided into someone.

"Three metres, you pathetic shite!" An Irish voice called.

"Sorry!" she squeaked looking up to see the red-haired Slytherin boy O'Malley.

She finally remembered where they had met and suddenly wished her father _had_ expelled him. He was thirteen, she was eleven, he towered over her. What reason had he to treat her so poorly?

"Don't worry, Heather," Pansy Parkinson said loudly as she entered the library. "I already know to stay _far_ away from that stupid, ugly cow."

"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed at the girls. "If you're going to cause trouble, Miss Snape, you should just go!"

"Sorry!" Hermione bowed her head repeatedly and backed away.

Hermione ducked into a broom cupboard and let herself sink to the floor and sobbed.

"Get the hell up, you little idiot!" a voice snapped.

"Sorry!" she cried melting into the wall. "I thought I was alone!"

"And I thought I raised a functional human being!" her father spat grabbing her arm."It appears we were both wrong!"

Hermione cautiously rose to her feet.

"This is pathetic!" he continued. "Do you think this is an even remotely appropriate response?!"

Hermione tried to speak but no sounds escaped her lips.

"It's like speaking to a fucking four-year-old! Did I not tell you that the world out there was cruel? Did I not specifically say that this world would eat you alive? I seem to recall telling you all this and more, girl. And you, my _insufferable_ child, insisted you _wanted_ this!"

Hermione fell to her knees and instead of her father, when she looked up she saw a bushy haired woman. She looked like an older and much prettier version of Hermione.

"Mum?" she squeaked.

"Unfortunately," the woman hissed. "I had so many dreams of raising you with your father. I remember being so happy when I was pregnant. But then I gave birth and you came out all wrong. I wasn't losing my twenties to a sick, pathetic, spineless, hideous, insufferable child! With how you turned out, I can honestly say I have never been happier with a decision of mine. I just feel simply awful for your poor father."

"He didn't want me?" she gulped.

"Oh, darling," she cooed lifting her chin. "Who could ever possibly want you?"

"Hiro likes me," she whispered.

"Wait till he sees you!" the woman sang.

Hermione woke with a jolt in a tangle of red and gold sheets. It was still the first night. None of that happened...yet. True, her imaginary mother wasn't going to magically appear in a broom cupboard, but the rest of it she could see playing out as the dream unfolded. She needed no more evidence than the train. _Social Suicide..._ She wasn't going to sleep. She got dressed and head into the common room. She reviewed her notes and practiced what spells she could before she finally heard the rooster's crow followed by the chime of a bell.

"Are you sure you're not Filch's child?" George asked with yawn as he, Fred and Lee Jordan entered the common room.

"I certainly hope not," she forced a giggle and threw her journal in her bag. "Why?"

"Because you never sleep!" Fred finished.

"I guess I'm just a morning person," she shrugged.

"I'm telling you, Harry," Ron began enthusiastically. "We'll-"

"Look, George, it's our ickle Won!"

"Mum did ask us to take care of him," George mused slipping an arm around him.

"Naturally," Fred said. "That should mean we stay on his tail all year to make sure he follows our perfect influence."

"Perfect influence?" Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.

"Need I remind you," Lee chimed in. " _You_ taught _them_ to count cards!"

"Great!" Percy Weasley huffed straightening his glasses. "I see you've wasted no time in corrupting our brother and the other first years."

"Corrupting first years?" Fred asked innocently. "Would we do that, George?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Fred!"

"Did you really teach them to count cards?" Ron whispered as the lot of them left the porthole.

"Perhaps," she smirked.

"You have _no_ idea how much pocket money I've lost over the summer because of that?"

"I'll teach you too," she whispered. "I'll throw in dice and coin flips as well."

"Won't do any good," Ron whispered back. "They have trick coins and dice."

"I'll think of something."

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. Hermione began to feel like there was no winning with him. Perhaps she should give up, there were other first years, and them simply being the first people to express concern over her well-being didn't mean she had to chase after them like a hopeless puppy. Besides, after everything she read about James Potter, she doubted her father would take her befriending Harry lightly.

The six of them sat together and Neville joined opposite Hermione. She watched the boys joke with each other silently, her eyes drifting to the silent, pink faced Neville. That was her ticket, the boy was as awkward and ill-equipped as she was. Finally, someone her father couldn't scare away. He needed her as much as she needed him. She just hoped she could be a good friend to him.

"Everything okay, Neville?" she asked between the twin's horror stories.

"Erm-yeah," he fumbled with his hands. "I-erm-I found Trevor last night."

"Neville, that's great!" Hermione said.

"Erm, he found his way back in my robe pocket..." Neville admitted.

 _Do you have any idea how much I berated myself for failing you? Honestly!_ But that wouldn't have been helpful to say. She swallowed her anger and smiled gently at him. "The important thing is you found him."

"Your frog, right?" Ron asked.

"Toad!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Know-it-all! I don't see why you're offended. It's Neville's pet."

"I'm not," she replied sweetly. "I just think it would behove you to know the difference between two distinct species _before_ you have to start identifying pieces of their anatomy."

Ron's ears turned pink and she felt a wave of shame come over her with the muffled laughter from Lee,Fred and George. She thought it would be liberating given how he treated her last night, but she just felt pity.

"I'm just being a bitch, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I am quite the insufferable know-it-all. So, you're right about that."

"Was that supposed to be an apology?" Ron scoffed.

"I'm sorry," she said turning her face down.

The seven of them picked at their food in silence until McGonagall came around with the timetables for the Gryffindors. Hermione eagerly took the opportunity to read through the bloody thing and ignore the six boys surrounding her. She was _so_ bad at this. Maybe it was the eleven years locked in a dungeon, but she couldn't say that.

"Any particular classes you're looking forward to?" Hermione asked the group at large.

"Fred, Lee and I have divination this morning," George said.

"Kooky Trewlaney is supposed to be hilarious," Fred whispered. "We're making bets on who she predicts dies this class."

"What?" Neville gulped. "Do students die every year?"

"No, mate," Lee offered. "Trelawney just likes to make dramatic predictions every year."

"Oliver says they're always wrong!" Fred added.

"And always entertaining!" George laughed.

 _Did you guys honestly choose an elective simply to laugh at the teacher?_ Hermione thought but bit her tongue. She had done enough damage.

"Bet I know what class _you're_ looking forward too," Ron said around his food pointing a fork at Hermione.

"Transfiguration," she said. "I certainly hope there wasn't money on that bet."

"You-" Ron began.

"I'm full. See you in class."

"But you didn't even-" Harry started but she tuned him out before he finished.

 _I am_ not _apologizing to that prat!_ Hermione made her way to the library to study until first bell. He hadn't even met her father and had already seemed to have decided that she deserved to be hated because of things he _heard_. She could hardly believe he and the twins were raised by the same people. Though she supposed Percy was drastically different from them again.

Hermione sat near the back of the classroom between Neville and a boy named Dean Thomas, whose doodles put her isolation art-works to shame. Dean was muggle-raised so he hadn't received the memo to stay far away from her like the others seemed to. Though he hadn't engaged in idle chit-chat until Hermione started.

"That's very good," she observed.

"Thanks," he shrugged. "Until I got my letter, my mum was convinced I would be a cartoonist."

" _The Daily Prophet_ uses editorials and other cartoons. You could always do that," she offered. "You can already put one of the cartoonists to shame."

Hermione wondered if she went too far when she saw his brown cheeks flush pink. "Gee, thanks," he said awkwardly running a hand through his black curls.

"G-g-good m-m-morning,cl-class!" Quirrell stammered at the front of the room.

"Good morning, professor," half the class recited.

Quirrell read from the register asking all who were present to indicate with a hand so he could learn their names and one interesting fact about them. Hermione was never once so happy for her father's last name. S. She was near the bottom of the list and could use everyone else's answers to inform hers. This would be easy. She could blend in.

"T-Terrance B-Boot?"

"Here!" exclaimed a boy. "I go by Terry and I can speak three languages."

"L-Lavender Br-Brown?"

"Here!" she beamed. "I have two rabbits at home!"

The list ran through like that. Some of her classmates had trouble conjuring something interesting, others had something at the tip of their tongue. Hermione was surprised when Harry's name was called and he stammered looking for something. The best he could come up with was that he "erm-guess he can play the flute" which was met by underwhelmed groans. Despite the disaster at breakfast, which was admittedly Ron's fault, she felt a wave of pity again. He just wanted to disappear, and she could relate to it.

"H-Hermione Sn-" Quirrell paused. "Oh, d-d-dear, P-Proffessor Sn-Snape's little g-girl? Wh-Why l-last I s-s-saw you, you w-w-were th-the s-s-size -o-of a k-kitten!"

The class erupted into laughter, echoing off the stone walls. Hermione put her head in her arms on her desk trying to run maths equations through her head, potions ingredients, spells and principles, alchemical properties. Hell, skipping chants, anything to drown out the sound of their laughter. Could she leave? If she did that she could find a hiding spot. She wished she _was_ the size of a kitten. Then she could dart out of there unnoticed.

"O-oh d-d-dear, h-how f-fool-foolish o-of m-me," Quirrell stammered. "S-sorry, d-dear. L-let's f-f-focus o-on th-the cl-class, p-p-please."

"Neville!" Hermione hissed in his ear. "I will do your homework for a whole month if you wipe this from my memory!"

This _was_ going to be a long seven years.

* * *

It was so quiet now. Severus told himself that it was only the first week and he would grow used to it. He liked the quiet...but as he set up the needed supplies for the fifth-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class he realised how much he missed Hermione's comments. By now she would have made one or two gripes about how he just had to keep everything on the higher shelves. He would have some recollection from when she was a toddler to blame, she would have some cheeky retort and probably roll her eyes.

At least he had Saturdays. Was it selfish of him to expect that? Perhaps, but it did save her from getting into whatever mischief the Weasley twins and Jordan would likely drag her into. And getting further involved with Potter and Weasley,or taking on the role of surrogate for a boy twice her size with Longbottom. Why couldn't she have been sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? His life- _her_ life would have been so much easier if she had been.

"Stop antagonizing Miss George, Wood!" he called from over his desk not ten minutes after class started. "That'll be ten points!"

The blond girl swiftly returned to taking her notes after scowling at the tall messy haired boy. Perhaps Oliver Wood thought being captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team gave him some sort of superiority over his peers. He would have to disillusion the boy quickly.

Percy Weasley shifted his glasses and gingerly rose his hand, probably to defend his classmate.

"It's not up for debate, Weasley!" he shouted. "I should hope you have better control of your brothers than you do your classmates. Or does that sort of treatment of girls pass for acceptable in Gryffindor?"

True, the girl may have started it, she was abrasive, but Wood's words had no place in his classroom.

"No, sir," Percy Weasley said.

"Then don't justify the behaviour," he said. "That'll be five more points."

The fourth year Gryffindors collectively groaned at Percy Weasley. Treatment he noted the quidditch captain didn't take despite losing the group more points. He wondered if teenagers cared about anything more than such shallow victories and-he had to think about something else, anything else.

"He called the girl _what_?" McGonagall coughed out her water.

"So you see why I had to be harsh on the first week," he said.

"I do," McGonagall sighed."A bunch of first and third years aren't going to behave that way. I'm certain you can take your eyes off them for a second."

Day four and Hermione spent every damn meal squeezed between the Weasley twins opposite Jordan with Potter, Longbottom and the younger Weasley boy nearby. How many times now had he seen Hermione shrink or outright leave a meal after an exchange between her and the youngest Weasley or Potter? Damn boys.

"And you were afraid she wouldn't get along," Dumbledore chuckled. "It seems she found where she belongs quite well."

 _She belongs there like a squirrel in a cat's mouth,_ "Yes, I'm simply thrilled that my only daughter has decided to surround herself with older boys at the tender age of eleven."

"They're jus' boys, Professor," Hagrid asked leaning from the other side of McGonagall. "Wha's the wors' tha' could possibly happen?"

Severus shot a withering gaze his way, and not to his surprise, the rest of the table seemed to follow suit. The worst that could possibly happen? Just boys? Did he forget being one himself? There was an assortment of damage they could do, and some he had not even thought about until this morning. He opened his mouth to scold Hagrid, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him and spoke instead.

"Perhaps, we shouldn't be asking him to imagine the worst," he said gently.

"S-such a cl-clever g-girl," Quirrell added from his other side. "Sh-she'll be f-f-fine."

" _You_ of all people don't get a say here!" he snapped. "Not after that stunt you pulled first day. Students were meowing at her for two days!"

"Severus!" McGonagall hissed. "He didn't mean anything by it. If I were you I'd be more concerned about how your behaviour will affect her social life than his."

"Meaning?"

"Enough you two," Dumbledore said. "We're supposed to be setting an example. How are you finding classes this year, Professor Sprout?"

He should have been happy for the subject change, but he didn't care for the abrupt dismissal of Quirrell's behaviour. Perhaps he was on to Severus's surveillance during August and wanted to give him a reason to slip up. No one else seemed to find his behaviour suspicious and alienating Hermione might have served to turn his attention off Quirrell. Or perhaps Quirrell was just being antagonistic. But Severus only needed to look at the man's eyes to see he was hiding something.

There was nothing he could do about it for now. He would just have to keep an eye on him. He followed Quirrell's gaze to the seven Gryffindors, he might have delighted in tormenting his daughter, but it seemed Potter was the one who caught his attention. _What do you want with that boy?_

Did he miss another of those ill-fated exchanges? As his gaze followed Quirrell's to Potter, he saw Hermione say something to one of the twins, shrug and rise to leave. Those little idiots, he wished he could hear what they said to her during meals. He glanced at Quirrell from his peripheries and determined that he couldn't harm the boy while Dumbledore stood at the head of the table. He watched a group of sixth year Ravenclaws leave and figured that could be enough of a buffer.

"I'm afraid I have to leave," he excused himself.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Did he forget how slippery she could be when she wanted to evade detection? Did he even have a plan? It wasn't as if he could really offer comfort without drawing attention to her. And he had demanded names and details of those who were cruel to her in the past to no avail. So his instinct to seek retribution on her behalf wasn't exactly flawless.

It was fine, he just wanted to spot her and ensure she was fine. That worked within the terms of their agreement.

_"I'm begging you, Dad," she pleaded. "No one else's parents will be hovering over them. I'll update you Saturdays like you asked, but please, just pretend I don't exist through the week!"_

_"How the hell did I manage to raise such an insufferable child?!" he groaned. "Fine, I'll take your request under advisement. The instant you step out of line negotiations are off the table. Understood?"_

He could have handled that better...but his daughter wanted nothing to do with him. How the hell was he supposed to take it? Befriending Potter should have been crossing a line, she knew what a nightmare his father was. Was this open defiance or pure naivete?

 _No one else's parents will be hovering over_ them...Other parents _did_ get involved in their children's school life. He had enough hate mail from parents over the years to prove it. Perhaps he should show her that and tell her to be grateful for the level of distance he _did_ allow her.

 _That little idiot is going to burn out before the first term ends,_ he thought as he found Hermione pouring over a volume in the library while surreptitiously taking notes. He wondered if this was where she disappeared to after her fights with Potter and Weasley. She had plenty of work to pour herself into now, something she inherited from her birth parents he was still certain.

Outside the desire to waste away over a collection of books, Hermione seemed fine. He was satisfied _for now_ , but he would to her about this nonsense Saturday morning. He watched her from behind the bookcase for just a little while longer. It seemed it was only a short while ago he was teaching her how to read, it was somehow surreal seeing her pour over her school work, despite years of coming home to see her doing the same.

A sudden pang came over him as he found himself wishing for her childhood back. _She's not exactly grown yet...I can't change the past, love, but I can at least ensure your childhood is better than mine was._

* * *

"I will do your homework for the term if you break my legs," Hermione offered the lot at lunch.

"You do know we're two years above you, right, Hermione?" Fred pointed out.

"If we wanted your father to kill us it'd be over something hilarious," George said. "Like switching his nose with an actual hook."

"Or place a bottle of shampoo on his desk," Fred suggested.

"You won't injure me _and_ you're insulting my father?" Hermione scoffed. "I need better friends."

"We might be the best you got, kitten," Lee shrugged.

"You're _hilarious,_ Lee," Hermione murmured. "I hope you don't spend all your 'A' material on me before the first Quidditch match."

"Kitten's got bite," George observed.

"What about you, Ron?" Hermione asked leaning over to see him and Harry. "Live your fantasy, kill me!"

"After showing off in every other class I don't see why you want to skip out on the one _fun_ class," Ron groaned.

"My feet belong firmly on the ground," she told him.

"You're not excited at all about flight?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry," she groaned. "I'm begging classmates to maim me because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect. Honestly!"

"And I'm innocently asking you about it because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect of being snapped at. Honestly, Hermione!" he mimicked her tone. "I was just trying to be friendly."

Hermione turned her gaze to her plate."Sorry," she whispered.

"I don't know why you bother with that one, mate," Ron said.

"Erm, Hermione," Fred started.

"Remember when you asked us to telling you when you were being a bitch?" George said.

"Well..." Fred said.

Hermione shrank in her seat. "I get it! I get it! I'm a bitch!"

"Your words, not ours," George offered.

"I know."

The owl post came and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They could focus on that for the next half-hour. She watched others open care packages and letters from friends and family and scrambled to read over George's shoulder. The four had spent the past week reading through the news together. Finally, front page was something important. And frightening.

"Looks like there was a break in at Gringotts last month," Lee announced.

"Really?" Ron said craning his neck.

"But Hagrid said that was the safest place on the planet second to Hogwarts," Harry noted.

"It is," Hermione told him, reading the article over Lee's shoulder. "Whoever did it _really_ wanted whatever was in volt 317. They would have gotten it too if it wasn't transferred to an undisclosed location back in August."

"317!" Harry gasped. "But that's..." he lowered his voice and spoke to Ron.

Hermione strained her hearing, but Dean Thomas's voice cut her off.

"Whoa, cool!"

"My Gran gave it to me," Neville said holding a glass orb filled with misty smoke. "She knows I'm always forgetting things."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"It's a remembrall," Hermione leaned over and spoke gently. "I've read about those. The smoke turns scarlet if you've forgotten something. It's neat."

As if on bloody cue, the smoke turned red.

"Now I need to figure out what it is I've forgotten." Neville gave a nervous chuckle.

Everyone who heard him laughed but Harry and Hermione. She didn't imagine they were trying to be cruel, not like that first class, but it still had the same effect on Neville that the laughter had on Hermione back then. Okay, the timing was funny, but it was still unfair.

A raven flew through the window and landed in front of Hermione. _Who would be writing me now?_

"Is that a raven?" Ron asked. "Who's sending you death omens?"

"I don't think so!" Hermione rolled her eyes petting the raven's head after taking the letter. "Ravens are used instead of owls in East Asia and-oh!"

Hiro wrote her back! She thought he would quit again after her silence, but she felt her heart race. Until she remembered that her father would also surely know how a raven came to her. _I might as well have one good thing today._

_Hermi-chan!_

The nickname sent a flush to her cheeks. She was teasing him when she wrote that. Chan, familiarity. Maybe he _did_ like her. Sure, they'd never meet, but she could have this.

"Are you blushing?" George teased.

"Did our kitten get a love letter?" Fred pinched her cheek.

"No, Fred," Hermione said folding the letter. She'd have to read it later. "It's a kill order. Your brother was right, the raven _was_ a death omen. I wouldn't drink that tea if I were you."

Three o'clock came and Hermione prepared herself for hell as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into an open courtyard. She didn't want to be yet another Gryffindor with a pathological hatred for Slytherins, but the six lined up in opposite all seemed awful. Pansy Parkinson stood beside a sharp-faced blond boy who acted like he owned the school. Draco Malfoy. Her father hadn't given her much in the way of social advice, but he did tell her that the Malfoys were a very powerful family and that her best move was to stay out of his way.

Something she was very happy to do, she was happy to pretend the entitled prat didn't exist. Though Harry and Ron didn't seem to get the memo. They seemed to antagonise each other on every turn.

When instructed to command their brooms, Hermione wanted to die. All hers did was roll over. Harry's landed firmly in his grasp as if he had done this hundreds of times. Even Ron's rose further than hers, true, his broom landed firmly on his nose, but he still did better. She bit back her laughter, and turned to see Malfoy's broom faltering. _Ha!Turn and_ cough! she thought that to soon as Malfoy's broom was the second to reach his hand.

Hermione knew flight lessons would be a disaster, but she had no idea how much of a disaster. Neville's broom decided to take off in his broom like a panicked horse. Perhaps it felt his fear, but whatever the reason he found himself high above them, whipping around with no sense of purpose.

 _Do something, idiot, if you're clever you can save him!_ But she couldn't make herself move. She stood watching him, her breath frozen in her lungs. _  
_

Neville crashed into the stone walls and found himself hanging from the collar of his robes until he hit the grass with a sickening snap.

 _Go to him!_ As she got her feet to move Madam Hooch was already his side.

Hooch took him to the hospital with the dire warning that a single broom in the air would promptly earn the rider's expulsion. Not a threat the oh-so-cool Draco Malfoy took seriously. Hermione became acutely aware of how much she loathed the school's untouchables.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Parvarti Patil said. "Give it back."

"I didn't know you _also_ had a thing for fat cry babies, Patil!" Pansy Parkinson cackled. "Looks like you have competition, Hermione!"

"Jesus Christ!" Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped her head. _We're on a first name basis now? What happened to ugly, stupid bitch?_ "Come up with some new material, _Pansy_. Give the damn thing to us, Malfoy, and all of this will be forgotten."

"I wonder which of our fathers I should explain your threat to, kitten," Malfoy mused. "Though I think you look more like a squirrel with those teeth and that hair."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron and Harry repeated Pavarti's sentiment.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said holding out his hand.

"If you want it, Potter, come and get it!"

"Harry, wait!" Hermione hissed. "Let the moron get himself expelled. Trust me, you'll be doing the whole damn school a favour. Don't give anyone a reason to go after you. Please!"

"Come off it!" he hissed back. "You just want someone who stands out more than you to stick around."

"Fine, get yourself expelled!"

That was exactly what she thought he did when McGonagall of all people marched into the courtyard demanding Harry come with her. Silence pervaded the courtyard as they walked out inside in silence, Harry with his head hung. Hermione's stomach churned. She mulled over what she could have done to prevent this. Maybe if she'd...no, there was nothing she could do. Now, they got to listen to Malfoy brag about getting "the famous Harry Potter" expelled.

"Fuck!" Hermione whispered.

To her surprise Ron had said the exact same thing with her.

"You two should watch your language," Hooch said from behind them. "Where's Mr. Potter?"

"Probably won't be something you have to worry about for long!" Malfoy sang.

Ron clenched his fist and glared at Malfoy. Hermione wasn't sure what he was about to do, but she grabbed his arm before he had the chance to launch an attack. "Don't!" she hissed in his ear. "His father has the power to make your life hell as well as your entire family."

"But-"

"I'll come up with something, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it!" Ron hissed back.

"Oh, Hermione," Pansy mimicked concern. "Taking up with his brother doesn't mean if you have to take up with him too. Poor thing."

Hermione released his hand and mimicked Pansy's tone. "Oh, I was just telling Ron that I so hope Draco Malfoy isn't in too, too much trouble for showing off his flying while Madam Hooch was gone. Poor Pansy, I'm sure you could do better than taking up with that show-off."

"Is it true that you were up in the air, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It _is_ true!" Pavarti cried.

She was joined by the rest of the Gryffindors corroborating the story. Malfoy stole Neville's remembrall, Harry pursued him only to get it back. The Slytherins denied it. Hooch took ten points from both houses and threatened to put each and every one of them in a week's detention if they said another word.

"Hermione," Ron whispered as they left the courtyard.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know Pansy Parkinson would pull that-"

"Just tell me you're not _really_ taking up with Fred or George," his ears turned pink once more.

 _I'm eleven! I'm not taking up with anyone!_ "It's none of your damn business!" she hissed. "I have to go visit Neville."

Hermione waited with Fred, George, a newly discharged Neville and Lee in the common room as they did homework. She looked up from her own homework to help Neville with his here and there. Between sentences she glanced up to see Ron pacing the length of the common room like an agitated cat. She wanted to say something to comfort him, or assure him she was as nervous about Harry as he was. But Ron couldn't stand her. And she wasn't sure she blamed him.

"Erm-Ron?" she squeaked approaching him.

"What could you possibly want?" he snapped. "You told my brothers you wanted to be told when you were being a bitch? Well, there hasn't been a time you haven't been one since I met you!"

Everyone in the common room stared at him mouths agape. Luckily it was only those six at the time. No one who would be likely to spread rumours about their fight. Something she was grateful for when tears sprang to her eyes. _Shit!_

"Nothing," she shrank back. "It doesn't matter. Sorry."

Hermione capped her inkwell and started stuffing her homework into her bag.

"Hermione," Fred began.

"You don't have to go because Ron's a git," George finished.

" _George!"_ Ron snapped. "I'm your brother!"

"And still a git!" George said.

"Apologize, Ron," Fred ordered.

"Leave him alone, guys," Hermione choked. "It's not him, I'm just not feeling well. It's probably just something I ate, I'll see you tomorrow," she ran to the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

"Hermione!" Lee called.

She turned back, praying the tears stayed in her eyes and were hidden enough by her hair. "For what it's worth, McGonagall has always been a good judge of character. She'll know Harry was just trying to help," she turned to the table with the twins, Lee and Neville. "Don't order people to apologize to me. I can take care of myself."

Hermione waited on the staircase with her head poking out from the spiral to see when Harry returned. Ron continued pacing like an agitated animal and the others ignored him. They were so close before, did Hermione drive a wedge between them? She hadn't meant to, she just- _No, sod on him! Ron has been treating you like rubbish since you had the audacity to_ help _him on the train. I do_ not _feel sorry for that prat! What if he's right though...?_ Hermione placed her face in her hands and let the tears fall. She was hiding and it was late, if she were quiet, no one would know.

"Harry!" the lot of them shouted.

Hermione quickly dried her eyes with her sleeves and peaked beyond the wall.

"You're not expelled, mate?" Ron exclaimed.

"No," Harry said, his face bright with disbelief. "Actually quite the opposite. McGonagall had me training with Oliver Wood. I guess I'm the new Gryffindor Seeker."

"That's fantastic, Harry!" Lee shouted.

"People are sleeping, you git!" Fred teased.

"You'll be playing on the same team as me and Fred," George smirked.

"We're beaters!"

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"We make sure you don't get thrown off your broom!" George explained.

"Or fracture all your bones!" Fred added.

"This is amazing!" Ron threw an arm around his shoulders. "You'll be the youngest Seeker in-in-"

"A century, McGonnagal told me," Harry said, almost sheepishly.

 _Seeker? If literally anyone else had gone for tried to get Neville's remembrall they would have been expelled or at least put in detention. You got rewarded for it? No,_ Hermione stopped herself. _He had no idea this would happen, he's still a good person, even with special treatment. He didn't want any of this. So why am I so angry about it?_

_Because I'm my father's daughter...Maybe Ron was right about me._

Hermione made sure her eyes were firmly covered and kept her head down as she ascended the stairs pretending to read her copy of _Standard Book of Spells Grade One._ Once she got into the first-year girl's dorm she changed into her nightdress behind her bed curtains and tried to remember the light spell.

 _"Lumos,"_ she whispered. She then sprawled out and read Hiro's letter.

_Hermi-chan!_

_Are you excited about starting school? Or perhaps you did by time this reaches you. I haven't heard from you for sometime. Is everything okay? Kaori's been teasing me about you. Mamma too. We're back to boarding in September too, it should be easier to get letters to each other. Well, between all the work we'll have to do! I did read your book over August Break and I loved it! I'm already on the second volume (In Japanese though!). My favourite subject is Transfiguration thus far. I've gotten good at it. Mochi is not happy I'm back to classes, you should see how she whines!  
_

_Did you like the manga? What's your favourite class? Do you have any pets? I can't wait to here back from you!_

_Until Later,_

_Hiro-kun!_

_P.S. There's a Japanese copy to help you with Kanji and Hirigana!_

Hermione reread the short letter. _Hiro-kun!_ Hermione's understanding of Japanese customs were out of sorts, but she wanted to feel like the "kun" suffix was like "chan". Maybe a little less intimate...or is it only for boys? She didn't have too much to go off of, but was it possible he liked her as much as she liked him? So few letters, but everyone of them seemed so sweet and honest. Hiro Yamato had to be the single sweetest person on the planet, and she could not be convinced otherwise.

 _It's nothing more than a series of letters. You have no idea what he's like!_ Despite telling herself that, she fell asleep clutching the letter to her chest. _I can keep the fantasy alive for a while yet._

* * *

"I couldn't help but notice you received a raven yesterday at lunch," Severus mentioned as Hermione closed the door behind her.

"About that," Hermione sighed. "I-"

"I had planned on telling you that I didn't see the harm in the correspondence with the Yamato boy, after all," he said leaning against his desk. "You know, Hermione, it's quite funny. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out if you had done a single courageous thing in your life when you were sorted. Then it occurred to me that there is a very thin line between courage and stupidity, and you, my dear, crossed it. How long?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"Did I stutter, little girl?" he said. "how long have you been writing this boy behind my back?"

"I-erm-" she bit her lip and shrank against the wall. She wrung her hands together and stared at the ground.

"Are you planing on telling me sometime this millennium, young lady? Or should I start stock-piling food?"

"Since July!" she squeaked. "But there were no exchanges in August!"

"July?!" he scoffed. "You've been lying to me for two months?!"

Hermione now looked as if she was trying to melt into the wall. He might have felt bad for the girl had she not deliberately disobeyed him. It wasn't like Severus _liked_ that his child was terrified of him. He much preferred it when he was a source of comfort, but she did this to herself.

"Omission isn't lying," Hermione said straightening her spine. "If it was, then I would have every right to be upset with you."

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he shouted. "I will _not_ be tolerating any of your cheek after what you've done!"

"Yessir," she said folding her arms over her chest.

 _Where the hell is this coming from?_ He couldn't help but think of the tiny girl who hung on his every word and scrambled to spend time with him. Hermione was cheeky, a bit of a know-it-all, but also helpful, obedient and caring. Until now she had never engaged in an outward act of defiance. _That I know of._

A moment of silence passed between them and he noticed Hermione's expression and posture soften. She now titled her head and placed a hand on her cheek. She gently shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said. "I know I should have talked to you about it when I considered it. You had a reason for forbidding it, just like you had a reason to change your mind. I should have respected that."

How was she always the first to back down, but he always felt like he lost? Hermione could be fuming or in tears and moments later collect herself enough to speak with a calm and patient tone. Though he could hear the faltering in her voice, and at the moment he could see how upset she was behind the composed sympathetic mask. He didn't doubt she was sorry, nor did he doubt she gave a damn about his feelings, but he could see the stubborn rage that she was trying so hard to bury. _You never did like admitting when you were angry. That might be my fault, I can admit that._

"The damage is already done," he sighed. "And I _did_ reconsider my position on the matter. You may continue to contact the boy."

"Really?" Hermione nearly squealed clasping her hands together. "Thank you! I swear this will _not_ happen again!"

"I know it won't," he replied coolly. "Because I know you would simply _loathe_ spending every afternoon and evening in detention until June. Of course, followed by the summer confined to your bedroom."

"Yessir," she nodded.

"That being said," he continued. "You still broke the rules. I expect you here every Friday after your classes end for the rest of the month."

"Yessir," she said.

"And I am writing to the boy's parents and the headmaster of Mahoukatoro. I won't be having you continue to correspond with a boy I know nothing about."

Hermione bit her lower lip and shifted her eyes to the lower right. He waited for the inevitable 'why' that came after that expression, but to his surprise she straightened her posture and nodded with a prompt "Yessir."

"While we are on the subject of boys," he began. _Calm down,_ he told himself as he beckoned her forward. _These past two weeks have been hell for her._ "I can't say I'm thrilled about the ones you have seen fit to surround yourself with."

"The Weasley twins, Lee Jordan and Neville Longbottom?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "They're completely _harmless,_ Dad. And probably the kindest people I have met in my life."

"And had you any sustained interactions with someone other than myself and my colleagues before this year you might be a more reliable judge of 'kind'," he explained. "As it stands now, you've given that title to three chronic miscreants and a boy whom I'm certain will take advantage of your naivete to avoid doing any work himself. Please tell me you are not so damn naive that you would extend that honour to Potter and the youngest Weasley?"

"With all due respect, sir," Hermione started.

_I never like what follows those words...why are you doing this, Hermione?_

"Harry and Ron are nice. I know that there was that hiccup in flight lessons, but they're not terribly different than the rest of the boys. I know Harry's father was a bit of a bully ( _You don't know the half of it, love,_ he thought bitterly.), but he's nothing like that."

"A hiccup in flight lessons is a student injuring themselves or vomiting," he groaned. "Deliberately disobeying a teacher's orders, showing-off, demanding you cover for him and being rewarded with a coveted position on the Quidditch team isn't a hiccup. It's a power-move, something you'd recognize if you weren't so bloody desperate to make everyone like you!"

"Dad, he had _no_ idea that's what would happen. He was just trying to help Neville-" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Demanded we cover for him? Whatever version you got of the story was clearly altered. Even if he wanted to-which I doubt he did-he wouldn't have had time to demand _anything_ of us before Professor McGonagall called him. I don't know where you got your information from, but evidently something morphed between tellings. I was there, I can tell you everything you want to know."

"The version I heard hadn't the chance to be morphed organically," he stated. "And what reason would Draco Malfoy have to lie to me?" _Even if I don't entirely believe his version myself._

"Of course it was him!" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know why he would bother telling you anything when he knew he would get away with it."

"Professor McGonagall gave me Potter's version of events and suggested I speak to the boy about acceptable behaviours myself. That was when he gave me his version of the story. Which is much more in line with Potter's character than the version I was originally given."

Hermione buried her face in her hands and grumbled a short phrase in a language he didn't understand before sighing and establishing eye-contact. "Any chance you would like the account of a neutral third-party?"

Severus examined Hermione, so frustrated and tired, as if she hadn't a moment to rest in weeks. She probably hadn't, only two weeks, and she already had dark rings circling her eyes and her usually warm olive skin paled. Something he hadn't noticed before, not with her penchant for burying her face in her hands, her hair or finding any other reason to avoid eye-contact with others. How long would he worry about her growing into a woman she had no memory of? Maybe she wasn't obsessing over school work and more concerned with the social aspects of her new normal, but that didn't ease his worries.

"I'm unsure how neutral your account would truly be," he said crossing his arms. "Two weeks and I feel like those boys have already wormed their way into your little head."

"You don't trust me?" she swallowed, clearly hurt.

"Do I trust the girl who spent two months writing a boy behind my back, only admitted to her offence once caught and followed her admission by saying 'omission isn't lying?'" he mused. "Now why would I not trust someone like that?"

"I deserved that." Hermione looked down, he swore he could feel the shame radiating from her in waves.

He sighed and placed a hand on the top of her head. "I simply do not understand why you are defending these boys after they've treated you so poorly, love."

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked with what seemed to be genuine confusion.

"Potter, and the Weasleys, particularly the youngest one," he explained. "Your interactions seem less than ideal."

"Fred and George have been nothing but sweet-erm-to me at least," Hermione narrowed her eyes again. "You haven't met Harry or Ron, why are you so sure you have an understanding of what they're like? And why do you think I'm being mistreated?"

"Hmm, let's see," he mused tapping his lower lip with his free hand dramatically. "During the sorting feast the youngest Weasley said something to make you bury your face, you've left every meal thus far early following some comment by Potter or Weasley, the boy grabbed your arm to whisper something to you as you were leaving flight, and the two seem to be hissing instructions or mouthing obscene things to you in the corridors. Am I missing anything?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands again and groaned. "The way I'm reacting now is exactly how I reacted when Ron asked why we look so different. I'll hand it to him it was better than the girl who asked if I was Asian or African a few years back." She lifted her head. "I'm leaving meals because I'm terrified of falling behind. True, it's only been two weeks, but the instant I let myself slip I just know I'll fail everything. The comments you see from them? It's normally a comment on how early it is in the term. I'm used to being considered mental at this point. The whispered or mouthed things in the corridors? Normally me indicating the school's untouchables before one of them does something stupid like letting themselves be provoked. Not always effectively, I'm afraid. Am _I_ missing anything?"

"The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth," he said. "I can do without it. Unless you're looking to add Wednesdays and Thursdays to your punishment."

"Yessir," she sighed.

 _Not the truth in its entirety,_ he thought _but I suppose this is the best I'll get from her._ "Tell me, Hermione," he said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you adjusting?"

The next week dragged on and Severus still adjusted poorly. Early mornings were empty, afternoons and evenings far too quiet. Yet it all seemed so unreal. He buried himself in his work when he wasn't keeping an eye glued to Quirrell. He knew the man was up to something, how often had he disappeared to mutter something to himself? Severus wondered if he knew about the stone. Dumbledore swore he didn't, and even asked if he was still bearing a grudge about the kitten comment or the job. He remembered why he was hesitant to come forward with his suspicions after that. Even if it was true that he was still upset that Quirrell was chosen over him, he wouldn't try to turn others against him, he had other ways of dealing with such things. The same could be said of the kitten comment, seeing students meow at Hermione or beckon her with "here, kitty, kitty" did fill him with rage, but it didn't make him suspicious of Quirrell. Quirrell's behaviour made Severus suspicious. His eyes were glued on Potter, he seemed very curious about the third floor, and though he couldn't put his finger on why, the man's stutter didn't seem sincere.

Friday commenced as usual, he prepared for his classes, went to breakfast and split his attention between Quirrell, Potter and Hermione. Like clockwork, morning post came and a raven landed in front of Hermione (Was she getting letters once a week now?). He had to start on those letters to the boy's parents and headmaster. He'd have to ask Hermione how proficient they were in English. The Weasley twins nudged her from either side and Lee Jordan joined in on the teasing. The Longbottom boy asked her something, she shook her head, Weasley also asked her something, she rolled her eyes, picked up her book and mail. This time she laughed with a light shrug. She waved a dismissive hand and left beside a second-year Ravenclaw girl, the two seeming two giggle at something.

His attention returned to the boys, each of them jovial as they greedily took to their meals. Ten years of eating only with Hermione, he couldn't help but contrast the way she gingerly picked at her food to the way the boys around her ate. Was it a girl thing perhaps? _No, it's a 'your daughter is a nervous wreck' thing, and you are entirely to blame!_ He pushed it from his mind and tried not to let Quirrell see his eyes shift to him. The man ate in silence listening to Flitwick drone on about a novel series he was reading. Quirrell feigned attention until, but his eyes did dart to the Potter boy every now and then. Severus was content to observe and listen until he heard the name of the novel.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I couldn't help but overhear. I find it absolutely fascinating that you and my eleven-year-old have the same favourite novel series."

"Oh, ha ha!" Flitwick said. "I'm allowed to enjoy things, Severus. I'm hardly the only adult waiting eagerly for the fifth book."

"I'll tell you what I told Hermione," he teased. "Don't get your hopes up. It's been four years. I think the author has given up on the series."

"Has it really been that long?"

Severus suddenly was ambushed by the memory of reading the first book to a five-year-old Hermione. He'd confiscated it from a student and forgot to give it back to the boy before the last day of classes. After he and Hermione had more or less memorized every word in Dumbledore's old volume of _Beetle and the Bard,_ he gave her the old beat up copy of _Son of Hermes._ They took turns reading chapters, Hermione required help with some words getting embarrassed every time she mispronounced something or didn't know the definition of a word. Even with the frustration, she still beamed with excitement every night before crawling into his lap with the abused paperback in her hands. When was the last time he saw her light up like that?

 _When I told her she could continue exchanging letters with the Yamato boy..._ _Eleven-years-old and I've already been replaced with a boy._ That wasn't fair, she never met the boy, and at her age she wasn't plotting to run off with some boy. The worrying about the political state, about her becoming ill again, about some unseen enemy in the shadows. He understood all of that, but it was simply stupid that he was so worried about being replaced.

"I will not have foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class!" he said going into his usual first year spiel. He seemed to have their attention during it, save Potter who seemed to be composing a note to Weasley.

He ran down the register mentally as per usual and swallowed upon seeing Hermione's name. He looked up to see her sitting near the back between Potter and Longbottom. He thought it was real when he saw her board the train, again he thought he'd get it through his head when he saw her being sorted, but seeing her in his classroom, it just didn't seem right. Some part of him expected her to be little forever. Hell, he still saw a four-year-old when he looked at her. He pushed the idea from his mind and began reading from the register aloud.

"Mr. Harry Potter," he smirked as he came to his name.

He rattled off questions and the boy shrank saying "I don't know, sir," to each one. It was clear at that point the only thing the boy received from his mother were his eyes. He wondered briefly if she would be disappointed that he couldn't answer the questions nor read between the lines of what he was saying. _No, she would simply be upset at my behaviour. Like his father, I'm certain to her and everyone else the boy could do no wrong. He'll not receive such treatment from me._ He turned to a once again shrinking Hermione treating her hair like an invisibility cloak. _Once you know him you won't disapprove of my behaviour, I'm certain. But if you're so eager to be upset with me then..._

"Care to help the great Harry Potter, my dear?" he asked her.

He regretted drawing attention to her as soon as the hushed sniggers escaped from her classmates. Hermione simply couldn't make herself small enough, her face nearly touching her desk, and he was certain that underneath it she had been reopening the scars on the back of her hands. He imagined she was once again biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He mentally cursed her birth-parents again and was about to dismiss the question when she began mumbling, answering all his questions correctly and in the order in which he asked. After which she all but slammed her head against her desk. At this point she was anywhere but the classroom.

"For the vast majority of you who aren't close enough to hear what she said..." he repeated her answers at a volume that could register in human hearing and turned back to Potter. "During the course of the summer that child painted the mural in the entrance hall, saw to inventory of several professors, renewed a decade's worth of vital documents, assisted in the archives and learned Japanese ( _albeit behind my back_ ). Yet she still found the time to pull a book off a shelf from time to time. What, pray tell, kept you from summer reading? Clearly, you don't understand the work required to succeed in this school goes beyond the cultivation of fools' worship. If you bothered to pay attention you might have been able to answer a few simple questions. "

Potter looked at Hermione beside him, whose face was still firmly planted on her desk refusing to acknowledge anything that happened around her. He then re-established eye-contact with him, a familiar flame flashed in his eyes. "Clearly, you don't understand that most of us might have only a few weeks to do our readings and would have prioritised refreshing material for classes that have tests coming up. And if _you_ bothered to pay attention you might have been able to notice that Hermione didn't want to answer 'a few simple questions'. No one else seemed interested in drawing attention to themselves either."

"And yet you seem plenty contented to draw attention to yourself," he sneered. "That'll be ten points from Gryffindor for Potter's cheek."

That had the opposite effect of his intent. He had thought that might earn Potter scorn and Hermione some pity from her classmates. Instead the fools looked on him with adoration and Hermione seemed to get her wish to be invisible. Which quickly changed when he told the lot to partner up for the practical portion of the class. He hoovered around but chose not to intervene.

"If you're so capable I'm sure you can do it all yourself!" Weasley hissed at Hermione when she offered.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Longbottom who had already paired himself with Seamus Finnegan.

_Kindest people you've ever met, love? You and I are going to have to have a very long conversation about these boys and what is actually acceptable behaviour!_

"Dean!" she whispered.

Dean Thomas looked around for a better option until giving a resigned nod. Watching the pair work, it didn't exactly seem like Thomas was forcing her to do all the work, but Hermione had at so many points said "It's okay, I got it!" or something of the like with a weak smile. Was she trying to impress him? No, she wanted the boy and perhaps the class to see that she would do whatever they required. Hermione's damn near pathological people pleasing seemed to be her attempts from separating herself from Severus in their eyes. No, she simply wanted their approval and would do anything for it. It had nothing to do with him or how he raised her. He was _not_ looking forward to when she started dating if that behaviour didn't change.

_It'll be a very long conversation, indeed._

Severus had been paying attention to the wrong pair. While Hermione worked deftly, smiling and nodding at whatever Thomas said when he felt the mood to speak with her, Longbottom and Finnegan had concocted an acidic yellow liquid that twisted the iron cauldron on the desk into something muggles called "modern art" and melted the top layer of the stone floor and the soles of the students shoes. Longbottom shrank before a scowling Finnegan and Severus knew exactly whose fault this was.

"IDIOT BOY!"

The disaster of a class ended and the idiots gleefully charged from his classroom like prisoners after a pardon. Hermione even managed to slip away in the mass before he could ask her to stay. He took the most direct route to the staircase and squeezed himself next to a wall. If the little shits were going to give her a hard time he wanted to know exactly what was being said.

"No wonder you're so..." Weasley scoffed but failed to finish his sentence. "I almost feel bad for you!"

"I _do_ feel bad for you," Longbottom said.

"I know you lot are very angry," Hermione said to Potter Weasley and Longbottom in a small voice. "I had _no_ idea he was going to do that! I know he hated Harry's dad, but that was-and Neville-oh god-the things he said to you-" she sighed. "I'm so, so bloody sorry! He's not normally so-erm- I simply don't know what got in to him!"

"Fred and George told me this is normal," Weasley groaned. "You can't tell me you didn't expect this, or are you that stupid?"

"Not to this extent," her voice became small again. "I should go, but I am _really sorry._ "

"Wait, Hermione" Potter said taking her arm. "Snape hated my dad? Why?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said shrinking under his gaze. "I-erm-I don't know."

 _Oh, no, Daddy, these boys are just so sweet, you should see how they grab and corner me when I try to make my escape!_ he thought bitterly. He saw enough, he was going to step in when Potter released her.

"Sorry, Hermione," Potter said.

_Damn, Potter, you almost sound sincere. Lay a hand on her again and everything your father did to me will seem kind._

"You just want to know something about the parents you never met," Hermione forced a sympathetic smile. "I know, it can be all consuming. But please, you three, I'm _begging_ you not to judge him to harshly based on today. He's not a bad person, just-" she sighed again. "Please, just give him a chance. And I'm really, _really_ sorry about class."

Hermione disappeared up the stairs and the boys lingered.

"I simply don't know what got into him!" Weasley squeaked. "Merlin's saggy bullocks! You'd think _she_ was _his_ parent!"

Potter laughed. "Now that all the Gryffindors in our year will be avoiding her, maybe you should be nicer to her?"

" _I_ should nicer to _her_?" Weasley scoffed. "Maybe if she considered apologizing about the things she said instead of apologizing for her monster of a father, I'd consider it."

"You don't think he's mean to her like that too do you?" Longbottom asked in a small voice.

"No way," Weasley grumbled. "Not after bragging about all her accomplishments over the summer. I'm certain Daddy's precious kitten is treated like a little princess! That's the only way she could defend him like that. Think she spends a second defending us to him ( _Not that you idiots deserve it, but_ yes!)? Oh, and if she knew Snape hated your dad so much, why didn't she warn you? She had plenty of bloody time! I honestly have no clue what Fred and George see in her!"

"I don't know," Potter mused. "He might have been bragging, but Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. It doesn't matter we're going to be late."

 _He's not a bad person, he just- She couldn't even finish that sentence,_ Severus didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him, but his own daughter couldn't find _something_? No, those boys had her cornered and nervous. It still stung. What was worse were the impassioned pleas after he knowingly dragged her into his attempts to hurt Potter. She knew what he was doing, even if those idiots thought he was bragging. _You'd think_ she _was_ his _parent!_ Hermione did defend him in ways he'd seen mothers defend their children in letters. Was Weasley on to something? Did Hermione somehow feel responsible for him? It certainly sounded that way. Maybe she did think he was as cruel as they did? That might explain why she gravitated toward such cruel individuals. He'd have to suss out how to navigate it another Friday evening. For now he had other matters to attend to.


	8. Duels, Dogs and Dangers, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to navigate life as a student, Hermione tries to help Harry and Ron out only to find it was more trouble than she expected. Alone again on Hallowe'en she finds herself in need of rescue. Snape's stalks Quirrell on the same night to find out what he's up to.

_Hiro-kun!_

_You've been at his much longer than I have. How do you run circles between your family and friends? Do they hate each other? I don't know, these boys I'm hanging around aren't exactly my friends, but they acknowledge my existence from time to time. The only problem is my father can't stand them. Any tricks you've picked up over the time I can steal, Yamato-Sensei?_

_Other than that, life is okay. I've been working very hard to keep up with my classes. So far I've done well in them. Month one down and I'm ready to cocoon for the next nine! I know how pathetic that sounds._

_Enough of my depressing life! On to you!_

_I'm sorry Kaori is such a control freak about the school paper. I know you were looking forward to it. Maybe join another club? Too bad, I know how you were looking forward to it. Talk to her about your ideas for a political comic and don't stop until she listens! Trust me, I'm very annoying so this is advice I can give. Talk to her and the others, if you can ally the others to your side, you'll be great! Miyuki sounds like your best angle where she's co-president and your sister's best friend. Turn on that endearing charm! If she's human she won't be able to resist it! I promise! You better write back telling me Kaori was out-voted!_

_The picture of you and your sister was sweet. I don't have access to a camera, so I'll just let you imagine my appearance. Think like a bushy tailed cat and a rabid squirrel somehow produced an offspring. You'll be close. Maybe glue doe-eyes on to it, people seem to like my eyes. Anyway, I drew a picture of you lot in the style of_ Koneko Mahou Shoujo! _and I hope you like it._

_Until later,_

_Hermione_

_I have complete faith in you, Hiro-kun!_

* * *

_Hermi-chan!_

_I did exactly as you said and you are now corresponding with Mahou Mercury's first cartoonist! I got Miyuki-chan to my side and Onii-chan was given no option! I've sent the original cartoon to you. No English cheat sheets though, or you'll never learn! fufu! Thank you so much, Hermi-chan!_

_That being said, your Japanese is better now. By the time summer comes around you'll be like I am with English!_

_Sofu-san doesn't really involve himself with our friends outside of summer, and even then, he let's us mostly handle things ourselves unless we ask. If your father hates those boys so much, maybe he won't be a problem? Also, boys? Should I be jealous? fufu! I'm joking, most of my friends are girls. Mostly because I follow my sister around too much. She's inherited Otosan's confidence and ability. I'll be in Kaori-sama's shadow until she graduates, but then I'll probably be alone. That was dark! You said earlier you felt like you could tell me anything, well...I feel the same way about you. I can tell you_ _anything!_

_On that note, a doe-eyed cat-squirrel hybrid sounds adorable! Hanging around people just because they acknowledge your existence sounds sad. Maybe you should follow your own advice? Join a club and talk to people until they like you. I like you...others must too!_

_Love from,_

_Hiro-kun xoxo_

_P.S_

_I loved the picture._

* * *

_Hiro-kun!_

_Your letters are the highlight of my week! Congratulations! I knew you could do it. I loved the cartoon, also, your minister sounds like a total dolt! Not allowing magic learning avenues for blind and deaf people? My blood boils, I hope the cartoon gets the idiot's attention! I knew Miyuki couldn't resist you. Also, Kaori-sama? Your sister will slaughter you if she finds out you call her that!_

_Speaking of ignorance, I'm not sure if you know this, but xo is put in English letters for kisses! I'll forgive you this time, Hiro-kun!_

_I'm sorry that you feel like you've been in Kaori's shadow. I know we've only sent letters, but you seem so bright and funny, I'm certain if you tried you could make it on your own. Not saying you shouldn't hang with your sister and Miyuki. I think it's nice that you're so close. Honestly I'm a bit jealous, I wish I had an older sister at times. Either way, there's certainly more to you than just being the younger brother of Mahoukatoro's top witch and the headmaster's grandson! You're clever and funny and sweet, and I simply can't imagine why someone wouldn't want to be friends with you._

_Love,_

_Hermi-chan!_

* * *

"I feel like your eyes sparkle every bloody time that raven comes!" Fred teased.

"Our kitten's got a boyfriend, Fred!" George teased putting an arm around her.

"Are you really teasing me about Hiro Yamato after last night?" Hermione blinked innocently.

For the first time since they met George's ears turned pink and Fred, Lee, Oliver and Angelina roared around her.

"Wait," Angelina stopped. "What happened last night?"

Hermione instantly regretted it. George really liked Angelina, and teasing him about it in front of her? That was some cruel shit her father would pull. George would never tell Hermione anything again. And she deserved it. _Stupid piece of shit!_

"I made the mistake of telling him some sensitive information," she covered. "He's just embarrassed that the great mischief maker George Weasley can't keep one little girl's confidence."

"George!" Angelina laughed. "Hermione, let this be a lesson learnt early. _Never_ trust boys."

"Hey!" Lee said. "We're not all so bad."

Oliver Wood rolled his eyes. "You could always sit with Alicia and Katie again. Since we're so evil."

"And leave that poor creature to your devices?" she laughed.

Translation, Angelina liked sitting with them. She hoped it meant she liked George specifically, but she wasn't going to project her stupid girlish fantasies on to them. Hermione knew better.

"By Merlin," Hermione groaned. "What do you expect those arses want?"

Malfoy sauntered over to their table flanked by his oversized cronies Crabbe and Goyle. They stopped by Harry and Ron and Hermione slipped out from between the twins to get a listen.

"Harry knows exactly what a wizard's duel is!" Ron snapped. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

_Don't take the bait, Ron..._

Harry clearly didn't know what a duel was, but Malfoy didn't pick up on the confusion, instead he was clearly caught off guard by Ron's question of a second. Malfoy hadn't chosen one, which Hermione imagined mean the boy had no intention of actually duelling. _What is your game, Malfoy?_

"Meet us in the trophy hall at midnight!" he sneered after announcing Goyle to Crabbe's dismay.

"Did you really call Pansy a stupid, snivelling cow?" Hermione said from behind Malfoy. "One of the Ravenclaw girls said you did and she's simply beside herself."

"I said no such thing," he sneered again. "And I don't see why you care."

"I don't really either," she shrugged. "But girls are complicated, we hate each other's guts, and yet we seek retribution for each other. Go apologize to her before I demonstrate exactly how girls seek retribution!"

"Are you threatening me again?" he hissed.

"Apologize or I'll start crying" she whispered. "Who's side do you think my father will take when I do?"

That worked better than she imagined it would. He chased after Pansy, who was beautifully leaving the Great Hall at just that moment. That left Hermione alone with the two idiots.

"Wow," Harry gasped. "Remind me not to mess with you."

"It's a trap," she told them in a low voice. "Don't do it."

"What?" Ron scoffed as well. "Did that raven warn you of another poisoning?"

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Bet you could," Ron interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "The duel is a trap. Malfoy clearly didn't have a second picked. I bet he's trying to get you idiots expelled for being caught at night."

"And if it is real?" Ron challenged.

"Then the idiot gets himself in trouble and the school loses an insufferable prat."

"I'd get used to Malfoy if I were you," Ron laughed. "The way Snape gushes over him, I expect he'll be looking to get you two married."

"For the love of-" she groaned. "I give up! I've been trying to help because I felt bad for you idiots, but go, have fun getting yourselves expelled!"

Hermione turned to leave and saw Cho Chang leaving with Marrieta. She ran up beside Cho clasping her books to her chest with an easy laugh, hoping it looked like she left those two to catch up with the girls.

"Sorry," she said under her breath pretending to laugh. "Just pretend to laugh again and I'll sod off once we're out the doors."

"Have you thought of _actually_ making female friends instead of lying to the Professor?" Cho asked with an easy shrug and fake giggle. "Maybe in your year?"

"That would imply she's able to!" Marrietta giggled.

The three pretend giggled as they left the doors and Hermione was ready to leave when Pansy and Malfoy stopped her.

"Which Ravenclaw girl claimed Draco called me a cow?" Pansy sneered. "Because those hags lied to you."

"I don't know all their names," Hermione said stepping between Cho and Pansy. "It was in the toilets I heard it. I think she was a third or fourth year. I think her exact words were 'That Malfoy brat is such a prick. I heard him talking to his cronies about the Parkinson girl, calling her a stupid, snivelling cow. I'm sure the poor thing is just beside herself. Is it just me or do they get meaner younger as the years go on?' Sound like anyone in particular? Because Cho, Marrietta and I are just working on a group project in DADA and it wasn't either of them."

"They're a year above us!" Malfoy yelled.

"And Quirrell's an arse who thinks growing up in the school means I had advantages others didn't. So he has me doing second-year couse-work as well." _How many more will you bring into your lies?_ "I'll catch up with you lot later," she said to the girls than mouthed _this is only going to get worse, go. Sorry!_

They left and Hermione was left alone with the four Slytherins. She gulped and racked her brain for an excuse to go before Pansy linked her arm in Hermione's. "Why don't you boys go? Girl talk."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all exchanged confused looks before doing exactly as she requested. How did she have such power over them? And could Hermione ever develop something like that? She once asked to be left alone and Fred literally picked her up over his shoulder with a "the only person I've met tinier than you is Ginny!".

"Let's go to the lake!" she instructed, all but dragging Hermione.

"Did you really threaten to cry to your father if Draco didn't apologize to me?" Pansy asked, still holding Hermione's arm hostage.

"Erm, yeah," she said sheepishly.

A silence came over them only interrupted by birds and other students wondering around the grass. Hermione wondered what Pansy Parkinson was about to do. Would she push her in to the lake. If the squid ate her it would be one less problem for her to worry about. No, Pansy Parkinson was a jerk, but not evil. She hoped. _It's not as if the giant squid persists on a diet of eleven-year-old girls._

"I have a proposal for you," Pansy whispered.

What was Pansy about to black mail her with? What would she have her do? Hermione imagined an assortment of things from getting her to weaponize her father's hatred of Harry to get him expelled to something as minor as Hermione doing her homework for the year. From the outside, they looked like two little girls walking arm in arm around a still lake on a sunny day, but Hermione knew this was war.

 _Just push me in the lake now_.

"I want you to partner with me in potions next week. Draco left me high and dry and made me partner with Crabbe. If Longbottom hadn't so spectacularly screwed up his potion, I know we would have failed." Pansy groaned. "I know you're trying to trick Professor Snape to thinking you have made friends with girls. I promise I can be a hell of a lot more convincing than those cows."

"They're not cows," she groaned. "But I'll do it."

"Oh, and, Hermione," Pansy pulled her closer. "Back out on me and _I'll_ be the one crying to your father about how simply horribly I've seen the Weasley twins treating you."

"We'll be potions besties!" Hermione hissed back.

* * *

"By Merlin," Severus commented as Hermione started cleaning her work station. "I don't think I've met a more fastidious child in my life."

Beside the work station Hermione had been wiping down for the third time were precisely lined jars of preserved dragonroot, in rows of three, each jar wiped clean till the glass shone. This was the same child he used to get after for painting on walls, but she'd always been...particular. The quirk was endearing when she didn't shut down because of it. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Most of his attempts to coax her into speaking were met with a single sentence. But she seemed to take the bait this time.

"I'm not going to say something like 'hark who's talking' ( _You just did!_ ), nor am I going to point out how peculiarities are a product of one's upbringing," Hermione teased. "But I will suggest you look at your tools."

"So cheeky," he sighed. "I wish I could blame those little idiots you surround yourself with, but this was a 'peculiarity' of yours before you met them."

"At least I keep things interesting?" she offered.

"Interesting is certainly a word we could use," he placed a hand on her head.

"So," Hermione listed the items off her paper. "Anything else, sir?"

"No, love," he said taking her list before he remembered he couldn't read it; it seemed she wrote everything in Japanese these days. "I think we're all set, and with a whole hour to spend before curfew! I do wonder how you'll spend it."

"Oh, I'll probably just-hey!" she said. "Are you calling me dull? I guess I'll just have to find something stupid to do," she sighed. "You reckon I can get in on the latest schemes of any of 'those little idiots I surround myself with'?"

"If your plan was to make me feel guilty for calling them that," he mussed her hair. "Then I should tell you that you going about it the wrong way."

"I didn't figure it would work," she shrugged. "But a girl's gotta try, right?"

"A girl's got to try making other friends," he teased. "I'll let you go, remember our arrangement, you're to be here tomorrow morning."

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he called just as she was about to leave.

"Yes, sir?" she stopped and turned to face him.

"I know you want to handle whatever it is that is bothering you on your own," he placed his hand on her head again. "But I want you to know ( _Dear god, why is this so hard? Talk to your daughter, you stupid git..._ ) that if you need to talk I am here."

"I know, Dad," Hermione nodded with a smile. "But I'll be..." she was interrupted by a chiming bell. "Crap!"

"Language!" he snapped.

"Right, sorry," she said before speaking at a speed only panic could induce. "Hour before curfew, that should have reminded me! Sorry, I promised someone I'd help a friend with homework. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dad. Have a good night, love you."

She kissed his cheek and ran off into the distance.

 _Slow down, love,_ he thought before going to mark his most recent batch of homework.

* * *

"I don't want to wake the other girls," Hermione told Fred and George when they teased her for her translating of _Koneko Mahou Shoujo!_

"Think she's tiny because she doesn't sleep?" Fred sighed.

"In all of our nights in the castle we know Snape doesn't sleep, maybe it's genetic?" George laughed.

"Oh, hardy-har-har," Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you old folk are tired, go to bed. I am fine here translating my 'weird Japanese cat girl comic'."

"Did she just call us old folk, Fred?" George gasped.

"Our little Hermione?" Fred gave a dramatic sigh. "No!"

"It's not my fault you're ancient," Hermione sang. "Damn, two years and I won't be able to stay up past eleven? I'll have to make good with what's left of my youth now!"

"Fine," Fred said pinching her cheek. "Us _old folk_ will actually be able to enjoy our Saturday."

"My father has me Saturdays, so there'll be no risk of that," she rolled her eyes. "How I envy you lot."

"And here I thought we had custody over the weekends," George sighed.

"You only get meal times and Monday through Thursday evenings, sorry, boys!"

"I think you and Angelina should renegotiate," Fred elbowed George, who blushed furiously.

"Fred!" Hermione hissed looking around the, thankfully, empty common room.

"I wouldn't say that if she were within earshot, Hermione," Fred said. "Just like I wouldn't tease you about Hiro in front of anyone but George."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "We're just friends, and a million kilometres away! I'll never even meet him."

"You never know. I hear there are cultural exchanges in participating schools," George shrugged.

"Mahoukatoro loves to do exchanges with Ivermony and Beaux Batons," Fred added.

"Or so Charlie told us when he told Mum about his chance to go to Brazil," George finished. "So you might just meet Hiro!"

"Oh, sod off, you miserable lot!" Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to sound stern.

"Ouch!" Fred gasped.

"Alright, fellow old man," George elbowed Fred. "Let's leave the young one with her weird Japanese cat-girl comic."

After an episode of laughter from the three of them Fred and George did that and Hermione dug out some a small square of parchment that teachers wrote their notes on. She had never done this before, and she hoped the standardized sheets weren't enchanted to respond differently to others. She knew each of the staff's handwriting intimately. Or many of them anyway, and she had every confidence her ability to replicate them. She twirled her inkless quill in her fingers as she thought about whose writing to use. Her father's? Fat chance anyone would buy it. What about McGonagall? No, she might be consulted and given a chance to deny it. Dumbledore then? No, he wouldn't be writing it either. Filch? Hell no, he would be the one they need the note for. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ Who would be the most likely to be believable, but not be asked to verify...?

The idea came to Hermione and she began composing her note, pleased nothing went awry when ink touched parchment.

 _"You!"_ Ron said. "Go back to bed!"

"We're going, Hermione," Harry hissed. "You're not stopping us."

"I know there's no stopping you," Hermione sighed. "Which is why you idiots need this," she held up the note.

"' _Please excuse Mr. Harry J. Potter, Ronald B. Weasley, and Hermione E.L. Snape for travel to and from the library after hours. As punishment for arguing loudly they have been assigned to re-organizing the archives on the evening of the third of October 1991. Signed, Madam T. Pince." _Harry read. "How-how did you get her to agree to write this?"

"She didn't," Hermione said. "You two should change out of your dressing gowns if anyone is going to b-"

"You didn't- erm- enchant Pince?" Ron asked, freckled face registering somewhere between scared and impressed. "Did you?"

"Merlin, Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I forged her writing, naturally. Years of replicating documents in others' hand-writing finally have a use."

"And this won't be detected?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I've been forging signatures for ages," she half-lied. "You''ll be fine."

"Erm," Harry said. "Thanks, Hermione."

"I can't help but notice _you're_ included in the note," Ron groaned. "Why?"

"Ron!" Harry whispered as if Hermione couldn't hear. "She's helping us, can we forget her father's a-"

"It's nothing personal," Hermione interrupted. "I'm _not_ watching Malfoy gloat when he gets you expelled. And I want to see his face when you're still here. Plus, Fred and George won't talk to me again if something happens to Ickle Won."

"I can take care of myself!" Ron snapped.

"Can you?" Hermione scoffed.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry hissed. "Your note will be worthless if you wake the whole castle, and none of us want Malfoy gloating when we don't show. So shut up."

"You're right, mate," Ron sighed. "She's just so-"

"Standing right in front of you," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"So?" Ron growled.

"Ron and I will get dressed," Harry whispered. "We'll meet you in a bit."

Hermione met back up with boys once they were changed and they left the common room armed with the note and the story. They were on their way, they got lost. If they were caught by McGonnagal,Flitwick, or Sprout she decided she would start crying. Those three always seemed to pity her and she was fine weaponizing it. If it was Filch, he cared enough to chase them down, but not enough to contest a note. Anyone else was a gamble, they were better off just not getting caught. They-

"Ouch!" cried a voice.

"What the-" Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.

"Neville?" Harry asked kneeling next to the curled up boy on the floor.

 _That's why he never showed for me to help him,_ Hermione thought kneeling to his other side. _I thought he changed his mind so he could keep avoiding me._

Neville looked up over his chubby hands with tears in his blue eyes.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I should pay more attention. Are you okay?"

Neville nodded with a whimper and Hermione fought the urge to place an arm around his shoulders. Neville had been avoiding Hermione since their first potions lesson. He'd probably recoil from her efforts to comfort him. _Neville's hurt! Stop thinking of yourself, you miserable cow!_

"Did you forget the password again?" she asked gently.

Harry darted a glare her way as if to say _you don't need to remind him!_ He turned back to Neville helping him up. "It's okay. We've all forgotten loads of times!"

"All the time!" Hermione agreed too eagerly.

"Great," Ron said. "Hermione, why don't you take Neville back, and Harry and I-"

"I don't think that'll work, Ron," Harry said pointing at the empty portrait.

"This is just bloody brilliant!" Ron and Hermione groaned at the same time.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now!" Hermione failed to control the shrillness of her tone. "There's only three of us in the note!"

"Note?" Neville asked.

"It's, erm, a _long_ story," Hermione forced a laugh.

"Why don't you tell him it while Harry and I-"

"She's coming, Ron," Harry groaned. "Sorry, Neville. We're going to be late!"

"What about Filch?" Hermione asked. "We can't just leave him here to be caught! Nev-"

"Yes, we can," Ron said. "He'll explain he forgot the password and he'll be fine."

"He's coming with us," Hermione tried mimicking the cold, warning tone her father used to instil terror in others as she walked up to him.

It failed miserably when she barely hit the tall boy's chest and she was glaring up at him rather than looming over him. _Note to self, you are not very intimidating!_

"Not if we're using your note, we're not!" Ron snarled. "And if we're not using your note than why bother having you come with us!"

"You, Ronald Weasley, are the single most insufferable git I've ever had the displeasure of meeting!" Hermione hissed. "You said I've been a bloody bitch since you've first met me on the train? Well I guess like recognize like!"

"You miserable chit!" Ron snapped. "You had better hope I don't remember that Bogey curse Quirrell taught us in class!"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him if her fate lied in him remembering a single spell then she would be safe until they graduated but she barely got a sound in when Harry snapped.

"Shut up!" he then turned to Neville. "Let's go."

"Take off your shoes," Hermione whispered taking off her own and placing them in her bag. "We'll be quieter."

The four of them made their way to the trophy hall, carefully moving along the walls. Hermione offered to go first around each corner and signal when it was okay. She wasn't as familiar with these parts of the castle, or familiar at all, but years of sneaking around made it easier for her to gauge the distance and safety. Surprisingly, they reached the trophy hall without incident. Not to her surprise they waited for ages and neither Malfoy nor Goyle could be bothered showing.

"See," Hermione said fixing her legs after allowing Neville to attempt a jelly-legs jinx. "I knew you could do it."

"Erm," Neville said helping her up. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Neville," Hermione smiled. "You could be great. You just need to stop thinking about everything else. Trust me, over-thinking every other aspect of your life only gets in the way."

"Oh, is that why you live in the library?" Ron asked. "I thought it was because you were a 'social retard'."

"At least I'm just a social retard and not just a retard!"

"Can we stop using that word?" Neville asked in a small voice. "I don't think it's-"

"I can't believe you!" Ron snapped. "Just because I have more in my life than books doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"No, that doesn't," Hermione admitted. "But taking Malfoy's _obvious_ bait does! Let's not forget I told you so!"

"I told you so! Ha!" Ron scoffed. "That's a bloody brilliant impression of your father!"

"You think so?" Hermione forced a laugh. "Because since I've met you you've always done a bloody brilliant Moaning Myrtle!"

"Moaning...is that a character in one of those stupid comics you've been translating?"

"You really are a moron, aren't you?" Hermione snapped.

"You're both being stupid! Now will you two please shut up?!" Harry seethed. "Someone will hear."

"I think someone has," Neville whispered pointing to the skeletal cat sniffing around the entrance of the hall.

"Run!" Harry hissed.

The four of them took off as fast as they could. The lost track of where they were running, and Hermione cursed them for not taking off their shoes as she'd suggested. Every now and then Hermione would pull them behind a corner and they would melt until they were satisfied they weren't being followed and would continue down the new corridor.

"ICKLE FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!" Peeves shouted from down the corridor.

"Over here!" Harry called to a door in a whisper. "Never mind, it's locked."

"Do none of you read?" Hermione scoffed drawing her wand. "Honestly! _Alohamora!_ Go!"

The four of them loaded into the room trying not to slam the door behind them. They would have been better off with Filch...

A giant three-headed dog- _cerebus-_ slept, or was sleeping, before them. It rose on four thick, powerful legs, and bared its-their-massive fangs at them, snarling viscously before barking and snapping centimetres from them. Hermione turned her head down. This was how she died, she was terrified, but she also felt herself shut down. She stared at the massive feet on the floor before her and noticed a trapdoor. _What are you guarding?_ she wondered, not that it mattered...

They all fell back against the door, falling on top of on another before scrambling to their feet and slamming the door shut behind them. The ran as fast as they could neglecting the cloak and dagger routine they had attempted before in favour of speed. Hermione wanted to snap at them, to say 'I told you so,' but it could wait till they were safe in Gryffindor tower. They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, all out of breath.

"Where have you four-" she began.

Harry shouted the password three times out of breath and demanded she open up. Which she did after a cheeky response about how no one cares about paintings.

The four of them collapsed on the other side of the portrait hole to catch their breath. Ron's fiery demeanour returned to him, much to Hermione's dismay.

"What were they thinking having a thing like that in a school? We could have had our heads ripped off!"

"It's guarding something," Hermione explained.

"You knew that thing was there?!" Ron snarled. "That little titbit might have been useful before we all nearly got killed!"

"For the love of-" Hermione spat. "I had no clue the thing was there before tonight, you complete arse! Even if I had known it's not like you'd listen to me! Lest we forget I told you stupid gits that it was a bloody trap! _I told you so!_ But no, what the hell could I possibly-"

"You know-it-all bitch! How do you know it's guarding something then?" Ron scoffed. "Enlighten us since you're so bloody clever, go on then!"

"You don't use your eyes do you?!" Hermione snapped. "It was standing on a trapdoor."

Hermione and Ron exchanged more venom. How she could have so little gratitude for someone who saved her life, she didn't know, but she couldn't stop herself. Nor could he. Harry and Neville watched on in disbelief they could continue fighting after everything that happened. Hermione was all but certain they were destined to rip each other's throats out before the year ended. She told them she was going to bed before either of them "came up with another clever idea to get them all killed or expelled" to a hardy "good riddance" from Ron.

"I can't believe her!" Ron cried. "She _wanted_ to come, but you'd think we'd dragged her!"

He was right. Hermione could have very well forged the note and left herself out of it. All they had to say was that they got lost in the maze-like corridors and Filch would have let them go with a grumble. Though Neville being locked out and the Fat Lady taking off might have still put a hitch in their plans. Why did she have to include herself? They hated her. She couldn't just keep waiting around for that long gone spark of empathy to reignite.

* * *

"SorryI'mlateIoverslept!"

Hermione spoke at such a speed Severus swore the words would be incomprehensible if she had spoken only a fraction faster.

"Late night causing mischief?" he asked letting her in.

"That friend I promised to help with homework never showed," Hermione grumbled. "Though I think I've probably translated the entire series Hiro recommended now. And I'm done homework for the month. So, yay?"

"I see," he said placing his hand on her head. _Another half-truth._

He thought of pressing the issue of the night before, it wasn't a coincidence that four first years were spotted out last night and Hermione was exhausted. However, as she stood before him, he saw more than exhaustion on her face and movements. It was as if someone had simply drained all the life out of her. _I suppose I don't see the harm in keeping it to myself. For now..._

"How was your week?" she asked.

"Dreadfully boring, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm far more interested in yours."

Hermione to his surprise didn't roll her eyes. "I'll let you know the instant something exciting happens," she scoffed.

"Now, why do I doubt that?" he mused ushering her to a chair.

"Because you trust me about as far as you can throw me, naturally," Hermione shrugged.

"That's nonsense, love," he waved his hand dismissively. "I imagine I could throw you much further."

"Wow," Hermione sighed. "And here I thought you trusted me just a little bit."

"In my defence," he sat across from her. "I can't imagine there are many who couldn't throw you far."

"So the original comment was calling me untrustworthy or small?"

"How is it you normally answer to questions like that again?" he pretended pensiveness. "Oh! Yes."

"You win," Hermione threw up her hands in false surrender. "That _is_ annoying."

"Yet I imagine you'll continue?"

"If I don't annoy you thoroughly am I really fulfilling my duties as your daughter?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not," he sighed. "What are you translating?"

"You'll laugh," Hermione said narrowing her eyes. "All you need to now is that we both agreed to read each other's favourite series in its original language than translating them for our friends."

"I take it you chose _Son of Hermes?_ "

"Naturally," she shrugged. "And I'll have you know _both_ he and his older sister like it. So vindication!"

"Oh," Severus groaned. "I feel just awful for the Mahoukatoro professors if that series catches on there like it has here."

"Wait, it was popular here?" that returned some colour to her face.

"Have you any idea how often each of us had turned down proposals for _Son of Hermes_ clubs?" he said. "Had you been two years older than all you would have had to do to make friends is read the most recent instalment in view of others."

"Had I known that two years ago I might have tried it on one of the Saturday afternoons I was allowed out," Hermione grumbled. "I had no clue they were so popular."

"And I still have no clue why," he poked her forehead. "I so hope you are as baffled as I am when you're grown."

"Don't you think it's a wee bit cruel to wish I'm baffled by my choices during childhood?"

"I'll disillusion you now, little girl," he said. "There isn't an adult alive that looks back on their youth without confusion. I just hope your biggest regret is your taste in literature."

"You never talk about your childhood," Hermione mused seriously.

No, he didn't. There was a reason for that. _Why are you asking me this now?_ he thought as he stared at the curious child sitting across from him. At school he was eternally the victim of cruel jokes, even at muggle school he had been treated like rubbish. His father was a cruel, ill-tempered man that resorted to violence at the slightest provocation. How many times had he seen his mother cowering beneath a table while he shouted at her? Any vitriol she had stored for his father was redirected at him in acidic tones.

_"You want to play Quidditch?" his mother sneered (he was twelve and was more interested in the potential of social reprieve than the actual sport). "If you're so determined to give yourself brain damage might I suggest you ask your miserable father when he plans on getting a job? Always works for me."_

True, back then he favoured his mother out of pure disgust for his father, and she did have moments of tenderness. Infrequent, and often undercut by her venom, but idiot he was, blamed his muggle father for everything and made a saint of his abrasive mother. As an adult he still recognized his mother was a victim, but he could more easily recognize her faults. Hermione knew nothing of them, and if they were still alive he still would have happily told her they weren't.

Then there was the issue of his one friend. With the exception of a aspiring Death Eaters and couple girls that he had no intention of telling Hermione about, Lily had been the only person who spoke to him at school. The only person who didn't want to hurt him at least. And he pushed her away in the worst way. How could he explain that to her? The answer was he didn't. His past was his, what good could talking to her about any of this possibly do?

"Dad?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said. "I was just wondering how it is I keep seeing you leave the Great Hall with Miss Chang, but I never see the two of you together anywhere else. Curious indeed."

"Just my pathetic attempt to make friends with other girls," she sighed. "The ones in my year don't like me, and neither do the upperclassmen. I admit defeat before doing something astronomically stupid to win their approval."

The dramatic sigh and smirk suggested she was trying to be funny, but he could see the disappointment seeping through false optimism and wit. It was too bad, he had actually hoped the Chang girl would befriend her. Though at this point he'd be happy with anyone that wasn't a boy two years her senior or Potter. She was quiet the rest of the morning as they worked. He wished he had chosen something else to change the subject.

* * *

"I hate this as much as you do," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"I doubt it," Ron grumbled.

"Fuck it," Hermione hissed. "Let's j-"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Ron hissed.

Mother? That son of a bitch! _Maybe he doesn't know? I doubt it. How low will you go?_ Hermione lowered her head to her desk. She regretted the whole duel affair. She wished she had never written herself into the note. Ron would still treat her like the plague, but she might have been spared the glares or the vitriol. At least in class he might have just been quietly scorning her.

"You're doing it wrong!" Hermione snapped after Ron tried to either break his wand or bludgeon the feather with a wind-mill like motion. "It's-" she sighed and tried to calm herself. It'd been three weeks. "Sorry!"

Ron looked at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. How often had she apologized to him? Why was he surprised now?The night of the duel, that had to be it. She had been mean, but it was nothing he didn't deserve. She imagined he would be immensely proud if he every learned that the night after flight lessons his words made her cry. She could see both him and Harry high-fiving at her destruction. Maybe her father _was_ right about them...but no one could stand her and she suspected Fred and George pitied her. Even her father called her insufferable. Hermione herself was clearly the problem.

"So, erm," Hermione continued. "Maybe-erm-try to-erm-you want to pronounce the 'gar' like, erm-"

"You sure you're not Quirrell's daughter?" Ron grumbled.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Hermione recited with precise movements sending the feather two metres into the air.

"Oh, look everyone!" she heard Flitwick squeak. "Oh, maybe they'll do it again."

Hermione quickly dropped the feather and leaned into Ron's ear. "That! Do that!"she hissed. "It's not that bloody hard." _Okay, maybe I regret_ that.

"know-it-all!" he hissed back

"Prat!" she seethed. "Now try it before we fail!"

"You can do it again," Ron groaned. "If you're so clever."

Hermione rolled her eyes and complied glaring at him while Flitwick made a bad situation worse by gushing over one successful spell giving her flashbacks to McGonagall's eagerness to show off her _almost_ transformed matchstick. She felt eyes everywhere and was thankful when Seamus set his and Harry's feather aflame. Eyes finally found another thing to fixate on. Except for Ron's.

 _Okay,_ Hermione told herself as they finally were let out. _Just apologize, he's no saint but, it was still wrong. I don't care if he forgives me. Just apologize and go hide in the library or toilets._

"It's no wonder no one can stand her!" Ron ranted to Harry. "She's a bloody nightmare, honestly! I swear she's actually _worse_ than Snape!"

 _Worse than my father?_ A lump formed in Hermione's throat. Was she worse? Her apology was meaningless to him, she just wanted to get the hell out of their before she heard anything else. _Shit!_ Tears moistened her eyes, but didn't fall and she prayed they were hidden while enough while she hung her head low and tried to move out before anyone noticed her.

"Ow!" Harry said as she bumped into him.

"Shit!" she squeaked. "Sorry!"

"I think she heard you," she heard Harry say.

"So?" Ron scoffed. "I'm sure she's noticed she hasn't got any friends!"

"What about-?"

"I'm sure Fred and George pity her for some stupid reason."

That was it. Nobody wanted her. If she had a living mother, she probably abandoned her, she was nothing more than an inconvenience to her father (no matter what his twisted sense of duty made him say!), no one in her year liked her, and Fred and George...of course they pitied her! What possible reason could they have to want to be anywhere near her? Even Neville hated her...she had no one.

"Are you okay in there?" Pavarti Patil's voice asked after knocking on the cubicle door.

Hermione had decided no one would bother her if she retreated to the toilets to have a sob. How stupid was she? Of course someone would hear her. Something she had thought about, and changed between silence and pretending sick depending on who entered and if she thought they might have heard her crying. That too was stupid, as enough pretending to be sick actually made her sick. Pavarti Patil entered to those beautiful sounds.

"Oh, just something I ate," Hermione lied with an attempt at a fake laugh.

"Should we take you to the hospital wing?" Pavarti, no Padma, asked. "Or bring her here?"

 _Shit! You don't even care...why are you..._ "I'll live. And Pomfrey's sick of seeing me at this point."

"Are you-" Pavarti said.

"I'm fine!" Hermione snapped. "Sorry, I just-" she sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go enjoy the feast."

"See you tonight then," Pavarti said.

* * *

 _Where the hell is Quirrell?_ Severus thought looking at the chair next to him. No one else seemed to be interested in the quivering man's where-abouts. How could such great wizards be so easily swayed by a stutter and a squeaky voice? He could excuse himself and go looking. The bastard was probably hanging around the third-floor corridor. He knew what he was up to, and he couldn't tell a soul. No one would believe him. He had an excuse ready, he was too used to the relative silence of Hallowe'ens with Hermione. It was simply too much commotion for him. No one would question it.

 _Shit, where is Hermione?_ his stomach churned as he noticed the absence of her bushy brown hair squeezed between the Weasley twins. Quirrell and Hermione were missing. Did he...Quirrell knew Severus was on to his act, but he wouldn't...a lump formed in his throat as he wondered what lengths Quirrell would go to in order to keep Severus off his back. He decided he would go looking. If that man touched a hair on her head he didn't give a damn what the consequences were. _Calm down, she's probably in the library._

The mystery of Quirrell's location was solved when he came barging into the hall screaming, gasping for air in front of Dumbledore. "There's a -troll-troll in dungeons-"

 _So that's what you were up to!_ He couldn't move now, he had to wait for Dumbledore's instructions.

Severus broke away from the rest of the teachers before they reached the dungeons. He had to decide, the stone or his daughter. That should have been an easy decision, he should have b-lined for the library to drag her away, but he couldn't leave Quirrell with the chance to grab the stone. The damage he could wreak with that, and he suspected he didn't want the bloody thing for himself. If that part of his mind was right, Hermione, and everyone else for that matter was in greater danger if Quirrell succeeded.

 _Please let her be safe!_ He pleaded to whatever higher power might hear as he ran to the third floor.

He made the right decision. Quirrell's faint was just an act. He was there, creeping along the wall and diving into the forbidden corridor. _Why did none of us think to enchant that damn lock? I'm bringing that up if I survive this._

"Did you think no one would find you?!" he called.

"S-Severus..." he squeaked backing up into the massive cerebus-Fluffy- as the dog began to bark.

The vicious barking resounded off the walls of the corridor. He dived out of the way of one head while shielding himself from another. _Quirrell, get him away from the trap door!_ Severus summoned black tendrils from his wand to grab Quirrell and drag him away from the trap door and throw him from to the other side of the door. He summoned another shield as the middle head lunged for him and he realized his mistake as he heard the door shut behind him.

It occurred to him how out of practice he was when he successfully defended from two of the heads and another came for his right leg. Despite himself he cried out in pain. He wrestled his leg from the left head free shedding blood everywhere as massive fangs raked his flesh. Pushing past the pain, he locked its jaw and shambled out the door gasping for air.

He muttered some words and stopped the worst of the bleeding. Every step sent a stabbing pain up his leg and through his body. His leg would be mangled for the time being, it nearly bit it off. _Fluffy? Not a name I would have picked for the beast. Hagrid thinks every monster is a lap dog!_

"You son of a bitch!" Severus hissed catching up to Quirrell.

"O-oh-oh, th-thank g-g-goodness," he squeaked. "I-I-I th-thought th-that th-thing m-might h-have killed you!"

"Drop the fucking act!" he yelled. "Locking me in with that thing gave it away."

"I-it's been a l-long t-time s-since I've been here, I got l-lost!" he lied unconvincingly.

"Just know I've got my eyes glued to you," he snarled. "You won't so much as take a breath without my knowing! Try to kill me again, I dare you! I'm not letting a coward like you make an orphan of my daughter!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Th-though had I r-really w-wanted i-it, I-I would t-tell y-you that y-you sh-should b-be m-more w-worried ab-about th-the oth-other w-way around."

"I swear to God, Quirrell!" he grabbed the front of his robes finding his breath and strength enough to slam him against the wall. "If _any_ harm comes to her you will wish for something as merciful as death!"

A loud crashing echoed through the corridors and they both knew the conversation would have to be finished another time.

* * *

Sweet, sweet solitude. After eleven years in damn near isolation, she never thought she would crave it so much. With the feast underway Hermione could cry her heart out, leave and no one would be the wiser. They all hated her, that was just fine. She lived her life alone, she could go another seven years. She could go twenty! It was fine, she would live alone with twelve cats and a veritable library. That's all she needed. Hermione was _done_ with people. All they ever did was hurt her. She imagined her father leaping with joy that he was right all along. She could already hear his condescending _I told you so_.

 _Collect yourself,_ she told herself after a time (she was unsure just how much). She could go back to Gryffindor tower and sleep until she forgot everything. Evading detection would be simple with everyone preoccupied with the festivities. She left, splashed water on her face and turned to leave when the ground beneath her feet shook. She drew out her wand and caught her breath. It was probably some elaborate hoax.

The source of the sound rampaged into the toilet and Hermione wished it _was_ an elaborate hoax.

 _Move, you stupid piece of shit!_ Hermione urged herself as she stared at the massive grey, club wielding troll before her. The blood froze in her veins, and she couldn't raise her wand, she stood paralysed next to the wall, wishing she could melt into it. If she was so good at magic why couldn't she summon it now? She stared into the things yellow eyes as it raised its club. She couldn't even scream! A million thoughts raced through her mind, chief among them was, _I can't die in a toilet! I suppose it doesn't matter..._

She finally summoned enough wherewithal to move and raised her wand with a shout _"Petrif-"_

The club came down by her feet with a loud _crash!_ It missed, she was alive, but the victory was too small, her head spun and the shockwave sent her to the ground with a ringing in her ears, the wand flew out of her hand. She acted, but too late, and now she would die. At least no one would miss her...

"Hermione!" Harry called out from the other end of the room. "Come on! Run!"

He and Ron began throwing peices of plumbing at the troll, yelling at it. The troll still tried to swing for her, and Harry's limbs _did_ obey his commands. She watched him leap onto the troll's back and launch his wand up the its nostril. The thing trashed around trying to launch Harry off his shoulders. Hermione watched uselessly in horror as it grabbed his ankles and yanked him off his shoulders.

 _Why are you doing this? I'm just...not worth it..._ Hermione thought still unable to move. A realization came upon her. This was all her fault. Harry and Ron were going to die, and it could have all been prevented if she had...this was all happening so fast. She wanted to take back command of her body, find her wand and save Harry, but...

"A little help, guys?" Harry called. "No pressure though!"

 _How are you so level headed?_ Hermione thought torn between envy and admiration. She had to do something! Where was her damn wand?

" _Winggardium Leviosa!"_ a voice cried and the troll's club lifted far above its head.

Behind the troll she saw the familiar tall, slender figure with flaming red hair. Ron! He did it right, and when it mattered most. He saved their lives. Ron sent the club thudding down on his head and the toilet was shaken again with the force of the massive creature falling to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Are you two okay?" Hermione asked.

Harry got to his feet and pulled his wand from the troll's nose. The boys exchanged words she couldn't quite hear over the ringing in her ears, but they did seem fine. Hermione found her own wand and knelt by the troll, placing her hand on the side of its neck.

"Looks like it's only unconscious," Hermione explained. "Thank you, both of you."

Hermione placed a limb-locker curse on its wrists and ankles. Sure, now that the threat was gone she could recall the wealth of information she'd read over the years. She owed them more than thanks.

Ron said something that again was drown out by the ringing. But he smiled at her with an easy shrug. Was his smile always so easy? Did he know he just took out a troll? A full-grown troll, at eleven! He shouldn't have been so relaxed. Why weren't the two as astounded as she was? _Because they're better than you!_

"I seriously owe you two," she sighed and felt relief from the ringing. "But we should get the hell out of here before-"

"Why on earth aren't you three in your dormitory?" McGonagall's voice called uncharacteristically shrill.

Not long after Quirrell and her father came running into the toilet, both pale and out of breath. She noted her father's eyes darting from the troll, to Harry and Ron and back to her several times. Wait, was he also shooting a glare Quirrell's way?

He knelt on the opposite side of the troll examining it before making eye-contact with her. "Are you harmed?" he asked.

"No, sir," she said, and registered something between relief and anger on her father's face. She turned to McGonagall. "They were looking for me!"

All three of them shot a withering glance her way, and he father's black eyes evaluated her with a familiar suspicion. He _always_ knew when she was lying. Sometimes she swore he was a legitimate, but she would have never gotten away with the half the things she did if he were...though she never _did_ get away scot-free. She avoided his gaze easily, no one would be surprised if she were transfixed at the troll.

"I'd never seen a troll before, and there's at least two of you who know how truly stupid I get when novelty is involved," she scoffed and hung her head. "When they found me it was about to bring its club down on me. They hadn't had time to get anyone or they would have. Harry distracted it and Ron took it out with its own club."

"And the binding?" her father asked.

"It's only unconscious, sir," she squeaked. "We thought it best to bind it before we alerted the nearest professor."

"You two seem surprised by her account of the events!" he snapped at Harry and Ron.

"The boys just fought a full-grown mountain troll, Severus!" McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I'm certain all three are surprised to simply be alive. And you, you foolish girl! I know you weren't exposed to much but trust me when I say a _majority_ of people live much longer than you without seeing a troll!" she then sighed. "If you are unharmed, Hermione, you can go to your dormitory. I'll be deducting five points from Gryffindor for your behaviour."

She got up to her feet and felt a cold hand clasp fast around her wrist. She turned back to see her father, also now standing and looming over her. "We _will_ be talking about this in the morning, young lady!"


	9. Suspicions and Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is caught investigating Quirrell after being cautioned to stay away from him culminating in a conflict between Snape and Hermione.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Hermione's father roared leaning over his desk. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN _KILLED!_ YOU NEARLY _WERE_ KILLED! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL?! WHAT THE HELL IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!"

 _I see you've calmed down,_ Hermione thought trying-and failing- not to shrink against the wall. The man's tantrums still instilled her with fear, but they also now annoyed her. She had no clue what to do here. If she laid into her lie he would know, he _always_ knew. But if she told him the truth, she would get an earful about how pathetic she was, and the boys...she wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't seek _some_ kind of retribution. Though when he was this angry, he might believe anything she told him. He seemed more than satisfied to believe he'd raised an idiot. She wondered if Hiro and Kaori were subject to such fits. She waited for him to finish. The worry that crossed his face last night...maybe she deserved this...

"AND TO TOP IT OFF LYING TO BOTH THE HEAD OF YOUR HOUSE AND ME! AND FOR WHAT?! THOSE IDIOTS?! THEY WERE PROBABLY LOOKING FOR TROUBLE LIKE THAT NIGHT IN THE TROPHY HALL! OF COURSE I FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THAT!"

 _Shit!_ That did surprise Hermione. How could he? But she hadn't told a soul. Had he been observing her mad comb through of books in the library to find out what the cerebus was guarding? Did someone catch sight of them that night? Did he catch sight of her observing the door from time to time? Honestly, she'd been so focused on Hiro and school that she hadn't spent half the time she should have on it. Then she remembered. Peeves _saw_ them. Information he might have happily dropped to get out of trouble. If not that, she knew Severus Snape had his ways. He always had his finger on the pulse and Hermione equally envied him, admired him and hated him for it.

"Shit, Hermione!" he breathed rubbing his temples, still supporting his weight on his other hand. "Why, why does this _keep_ happening?" he collapsed into his chair a moment later.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked rushing to his side. Seeing his leg stuck out in front of him as if he couldn't fully move it Hermione swore in Elvish. "What happened?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Not all of us are gifted with blind, stupid luck when faced with a monster!"

The troll did that to him? How'd he get away from it? No, she shouldn't have asked that. It was unfair, Hermione would have been far worse off if it wasn't for her 'blind stupid luck' and they both knew it. She still couldn't believe how she froze to the sight of the troll. Neville might have had doubts that he brave enough to be in Gryffindor, but Hermione _knew_ she wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she said touching his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I said I was fine," he said, his voice more even. "But I suppose I could tell you that a thousand times and you would still worry," he sighed placing a hand on the top of her head.

"You know me too well," she shrugged. "If you tell me you're fine, I'll believe you."

"Just _please_ tell me this wasn't some astronomically stupid idea to get the others to like you."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. And if you're at all worried you gave me an astronomically stupid idea, I found out something _very_ important about myself that would render that impossible."

"Oh?"

"I'm a bloody coward," she shrugged.

"My life would be a _hell_ of a lot easier if that were true, love."

* * *

Coward? How he wished that were true. He never did get the truth from her, but he wasn't going to without twisting her little arm. Their little meeting ended with her losing four until eight o'clock every week day and Saturday afternoons until June to a task of his choosing. Perhaps it was harsh, but if she did go after the bloody thing, she could have _died._ And if he were honest, it kept her the hell away from Quirrell. There wasn't a soul that would believe Quirrell threatened her. Why didn't he just slip vereserum in his goblet and end the whole charade? He would confess to everything...unless he thought to defend against it.

"Until June?" McGonagall scoffed. "That seems a bit harsh."

"She might have _died_ ," he reminded her. "And so might have those boys in your charge. You know, the _children_ you _rewarded_ for risking their lives."

"What I do with students in my house is my business, Severus," McGonagall said. "The only reason you have a say with your daughter is because she is just that, your daughter."

"And as a parent I can tell you that the Weasleys and Dursleys would be horrified!" _If I remember Petunia correctly, she would probably be upset the boy_ didn't _get himself killed, but I know I'm right about the Weasleys._

"Do you think the girl would be so desperate to get up close and personal with every novelty under the sun if you had let her breathe a little as a child?" McGonagall asked pointedly.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" he snapped.

"Must you two bicker like children every meal?" Dumbledore chuckled. "We have plenty enough to watch over. But you two do keep things interesting. If we seem over involved, Severus, it's only because it takes a village...or a school in our case. Many of us have become attached."

"Attached enough to keep her from killing herself?" he scoffed. "I should have home-schooled her."

"You'd still have to let go someday," Dumbledore whispered knowingly.

He looked out to see Hermione rising and leaving the morning meal early again. But this time the seven around her seemed at ease. The youngest Weasley said something and Hermione laughed with a shrug and-winked! Maybe she was just being cheeky. That had to be it. She was a baby, far too young for such nonsense. _And how old were you when you were infatuated with your little redheaded friend?_

"Would it kill her to have _one_ female friend?" he grumbled to Dumbledore.

"She might meet one if you give her her afternoons back," Dumbledore whispered back.

Boys it was then. He wasn't budging. Anything that made it harder to keep his eye on Hermione made it easier for Quirrell to make good on his threat. They could talk all they wanted about giving Hermione room to breathe, but at least she _was_ breathing.

* * *

"Can you remember anything about it?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Hermione, it was wrapped in parcel paper," he said. "Sorry."

"What about the day?" she asked. "Harry, anything might be helpful."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron groaned. "You're like a dog with a bone!"

"Well, you _did_ say I was a bitch!" Hermione smirked.

The three were huddled around a table in the Gryffindor common room after Hermione helped them with their homework. Usually Harry would still be at practice, but thankfully rain made them come in early. Hermione could pry now. Harry had information she didn't. She wanted to share, but Harry and Ron hadn't put much thought into it. Harry and Ron laughed at her for pointing out Quirrell's frequent appearances by the forbidden corridor, but she snapped at them for indicating her father was milling about the forbidden corridor that night.

"Is it at all possible he was looking for his missing child?" she laid into them. "Or maybe he also wanted to lure the thing in and lock an unsuspecting victim in there with it!"

"Hermione," Ron went pink behind the ears. "We just... of the two who is more likely to do it? Quirrell's a bloody coward."

"And Snape's my _father,"_ she hissed. "Look unless I'm faced with unequivocal proof, I _refuse_ to believe he is out to stab Dumbledore in the back. Dumbledore is close enough to my father he referred to himself as 'uncle' until my father told him to stop."

"You sure that didn't mean he liked _you_?" Harry asked. "I mean, Dumbledore has a soft spot for young kids."

"And a girl raised like you were?" Ron offered. "You said it yourself. They pity you."

" _Ron!"_ Hermione huffed. "There's simply no proof he did it." She decided to keep his injured leg to herself. "Just tell me everything that happened when you went to Diagon Alley."

Harry disclosed everything, the trip to the Underground with Hagrid, the Leaky Cauldron, meeting Quirrell there, emptying volt 317, and he described the parcel as a small, rough shaped, single item. Something that could fit in someone's palm. She imagined it was a magical artifact of immense power. 317-wasn't that the vault broken into during the summer? The same day it had been emptied?

"Ha!" Hermione snapped her fingers. "Quirrell was coincidentally there the day it went the vault was broken into? There's the proof, boys!"

"Your father _really_ has you brainwashed, doesn't he?" Ron groaned. "Or are you still upset about the kitten comment?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't like the pointed look the two men exchanged when they caught up to McGonagall. It simply didn't sit right with her. The two would have been close together to catch up at the same time, meaning Quirrell was _also_ there. Harry and Ron also explained the first week of school being rescued by Quirrell after a couple of wrong turns. And now he was at the Leaky Cauldron when the vault was broken into? The evidence was circumstantial, but mounting. _But Dad's leg, what if the cerebus did it? I just assumed it was the troll._ Putting her money on Quirrell was more for her own sake than suspicion. True, there were things she didn't like, but he was the only other candidate. And it just _couldn't_ be her father. She'd sooner blame Libby...Libby...she might know! After three months of not seeing her at all, she didn't want to call out of the blue to see if she could defy rules and spy on a professor.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Hagrid has invited us over after the match. You can ask him anything then."

"I'll have to write Hagrid an apology," Hermione sighed. "I have detention every Saturday afternoon and evening until June."

"Till June? His own daughter?" Ron scoffed. "Merlin, maybe you _should_ have told him we accidentally locked you in there with the thing!"

"Better me in detention than you two dead," Hermione sang. "I promised Fred and George I would teach them certain phrases in Japanese. You two wanna join? Sharing a secret language might be fun..."

"We can barely do our homework!" Ron moaned.

" _Yare Yare!"_ she rolled her eyes.

* * *

"You have thirty seconds to chose a partner," Severus groaned. "Two months in and if this continues to waste class time I will assign partners _nobody_ will be happy with. THIRTY! TWENTY-NINE!"

Not to his surprise, Hermione and the Parkinson girl paired together and the Longbottom boy was now the one everyone sought to avoid. After time was up he and the Crabbe boy were the last two standing. He wasn't sure which of the two would be doing more damage, but his attention turned to the girls whispering back and forth to each other before, to Parkinson's dismay, the two boys took the table beside them. Had Hermione finally found her ability to advocate to her friends for what she wanted? Parkinson glared at her and Hermione shrank with an awkward smile, almost hiding behind her text book.

Those girls were such opposites; how the hell did they decide to pair-up? After wishing she'd talk to another girl her age he didn't like that he disapproved, and had to pretend he didn't, but he wished she had met someone nicer. "Settle down, girls."

"Yessir," they both said turning their attention to him.

"To continue with our work in health and mood elixirs," he typically would stalk the room, but with his leg he stayed seated. "We'll be making a anti-solmulant called Sanguine Solution. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?"

Not a single hand hit the air. Malfoy looked pensive, as if trying to recall, perhaps he would answer, Parkinson looked at Hermione, who tried shrinking from sight. He suspected she knew, but as always wanted to evade attention. He didn't get it, it seemed like she was always looking for approval, but when she got the chance to earn it, she shrank away. Others were similarly either disinterested or confounded. Potter and Weasley were exchanging whispers.

"Not a single one of you? This is a disappointment," he mused. "Five seconds or I'm choosing someone at random. Five," he looked around. "Four," still nothing. "Three," nothing. "Two...POTTER!"

"Sure, random," he heard the boy grumble to Weasley.

"What happened to one?" Weasley whispered back.

" _Yare Yare,"_ Hermione groaned hitting her head to the desk.

"Swearing in another language is still swearing!" he snapped. "ten points! I swear it's been the same conversation since you were four!"

He ignored the sniggering as he turned back to Potter. "Since it's clear you have no clue what the Sanguine Solution does, care to hazard a guess?"

"Erm," he looked around. "Sanguine is Latin for blood, right? So, replenish lost blood?"

"Wrong," he sighed. "Sanguine might mean 'blood' in Latin, but in English-which I do believe is your native language, yes?-a sanguine character is someone who is full of energy, for better or worse."

"English is my native language, sir," Harry said. "I might not have known archaic descriptions like 'sanguine' but I do know the meaning of the word 'random'."

Some of the Gryffindor boys laughed at Potter's excuse for a joke. He noticed Finnegan winking at him before Hermione muttered something in exasperation-Elvish, he thought.

"The Sanguine Solution keeps one awake by increasing blood-flow to the brain and blocking sleep inducing chemicals from parts of the brain. That'll be another fifteen points, ten for Potter's cheek," he sighed. "And a further five for the multi-lingual swearing. Honestly, you speak four languages and that's the best you can do with it?"

"Sorry, sir," she muttered.

"You'll find everything you need on page 435," he called over the laughing class. "You all have twenty minutes. Start now!"

The pairs worked to varying degrees of success, he turned his attention to the girls, he often saw Parkinson grab a tool, Hermione would consult her notes in response and hand her a different tool. Hermione was not only doing her own portion of work, but she was more or less coaching Parkinson in everything, and shooting a nod or a head shake Longbottom's way when she noticed him point to ingredient jars. _The book is right in front of you!_

"TIME!" he shouted.

Malfoy and Goyle's potion came along at the expected speed. It's colour not quite the crimson it should be, but that would take more time than they had. He examined it before scoring it 10/10 on his clipboard, saying a few words and awarding a point for well done work. He moved to less impressive specimens, but still on the right track, each scoring at least a seven before he reached Hermione's and Parkinson's.

"Would you girls care to explain how it finished brewing so fast?" he asked.

The potion bubbled a deep crimson, with the correct viscosity, what he was looking at was a completed Sanguine Solution. Had they the full hour to brew it, this would have been perfect. He saw Parkinson beam before Hermione elbowed her. Hermione took his meaning, and after the elbow to the arm, Parkinson's smile faded and the girls exchanged a worried glance.

"I'm waiting," he said.

Hermione swallowed and began speaking very quietly, and very fast. "We (this time Parkinson's elbow nudged Hermione's arm)-erm-I thought with the time limit part of the challenge was to get it finished. When we reviewed the chemical, alchemical and mystical properties of the ingredients, it didn't look like there'd be a poor interaction if we used tools that let let the juices and other properties out faster. It was my idea, erm, Pansy wanted to just follow the instructions."

 _That girl was completely on board until she thought it was wrong. Stop lying!_ Though, Hermione had figured out something that Severus himself hadn't until his third year. "You girls _did_ demonstrate a very thorough understanding of the subject matter. Knowing how the properties of your tools and your ingredients interact as a whole, and the risk of a poor reaction when expedited is incredibly advanced."

Parkinson's grin reappeared and Hermione sighed in relief.

" _However,_ " he continued and watched Hermione recoil. "Neither of you girls have the background or practical experience to be making such calls. Not as first years, and no matter how intimate your knowledge of the properties, you're bound to neglect how _dangerous_ one mistake can be without such experience. You girls will receive a perfect score, _but_ I will be deducting a point from each of your houses. Honestly, I expected _you_ to know better."

He moved to the bright red solution simmering in Longbottom's cauldron. "Scarlet? I think I see exactly where you went wrong. You didn't get a certain someone's attention when figuring out how much taurine and ironroot to add. Stay after class, Longbottom," he turned to Hermione. "You too. It appears we need to have a talk about cheating and its place at Hogwarts."

Severus progressed to Potter and Weasley and begrudgingly gave them a 9/10, as they had nearly gotten almost everything rest of the cauldrons were mediocre to passing and he simply couldn't wait till the holidays. He dismissed the class five minutes early and leaned against his desk not looking forward to the conversation.

Longbottom now pink-faced trembled as he inched closer to Hermione, who hung her tiny head solemnly and once again dug her fingernails into the back of her hand. Hermione mouthed an unconvincing 'it's fine' as the boy drew even closer. As if he was trying to hide behind a girl half his size. Was that all she was to him?

"She is the last person you want to be hiding behind right now, boy!" he snarled.

"Does he look like he's hiding behind me?" Hermione sighed. "I don't understand how you think we cheated."

"It certainly looks like he's trying," Severus seethed. "As to how you cheated, you gave the boy answers at every turn."

"But it was open book!" Hermione cried. "And we were working in pairs," her voice evened as she sighed. "Neville didn't do anything wrong, sir."

"It was open book," he conceded. "But that was not what he consulted, and yes, you were working in pairs, but I believe you were paired with Miss Parkinson and he was paired with Mr. Crabbe. Am I wrong?"

"No, sir," she sighed. "But you don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly, Hermione!" he snapped. "Pity has always been your undoing! You look at him and think 'oh, that poor boy' and there's nothing you won't do. You're pathetically naive!"

"But Neville wasn't-" she began.

"Hermione, please just shut up!" he shouted. "And you!" he seethed. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Longbottom? Or did you simply plan on having her defend you?"

"I-I-I, erm," Longbottom choked. "I, erm, didn't know it was cheating, sir."

"Allow me to educate you, Longbottom," he sneered. "When you are being spoonfed the answers from someone you are _not_ partnered with, it is cheating. Now get the hell out of my sight!"

Neville obeyed with a speed he had not expected someone with his frame to muster, and Hermione turned away too.

" _Not you,"_ he snapped. "It seems we're overdue for a little heart-to-heart. Sit down."

Hermione obliged digging her nails back into her hands and biting her lip.

"I know you feel bad for the boy," he said sitting across from her. "But I won't be accepting that as an excuse in the future. Do you think a quivering voice and bumbling nature prevent them from being manipulative?"

"This isn't just about Neville, is it?" Hermione asked in a low voice with narrowed eyes.

 _Naive, not stupid. I'll give her that,_ he placed a hand on her head. "Not entirely, no," he admitted. "Though I do feel the need to tell you not to let his mewling guilt you into doing his work for him. I know how desperately you want to feel needed, but I highly recommend you start setting boundaries now. Before the consequences of not doing so become too serious."

"I don't think he's looking to weaponize my pity," Hermione said. "Nor do I think he'll ever plan to. He's just not like that, Dad."

"I hope you're right," he sighed. "Now, you haven't been bothered lately, have you?"

"I'm sorry?" she raised a curious eyebrow.

 _She'd know what I meant if Quirrell had been prowling around her...maybe he has no intention of making good on his threat._ He wondered how to warn her, but knew she felt sorry for the man. Longbottom might have been clueless, but Quirrell _did_ weaponize pity, and he did it well enough he wasn't sure anyone would believe him responsible if anything happened to her. _Nothing is going to happen to you._

"Quirrell, I can't give you the details," he told her under his breath. "I wish I could. But you need to stay as far away from him as possible. I don't buy his little quivering coward act, and no matter how much you pity him, you shouldn't either."

"Is this about Hallowe'en?" Hermione whispered. "Ohmigod! Did Quirrell do that to your leg?"

 _So close, yet so_ far, he thought. So she put together there was a conflict between them on Hallowe'en. Perhaps she could handle...no! The more she knew the more danger she was in. He would just have to keep an eye on her. "All you need to know is that I suspect he's involved in something very dangerous, and you might get dragged into it if you're not _very_ careful."

"I'll keep my distance," she said, but he could see something churning behind her eyes. "But-"

" _Promise me, Hermione!"_ he insisted.

"I promise," she placed a hand on his arm. "You'll be okay, though, won't you?"

"Of course I will, love," he lied. "Now, I want you to find me as soon as he spot him lurking around you, understood?"

* * *

"I _love_ Sundays," Hermione sighed happily.

All three of them sat on a fountain huddled for warmth with Hermione's blue-bell flame sitting at the small of Harry's back so all three could ward off the cold. The slow burning, fuelless flame was a point of pride for Hermione. She'd been working on it since summer. Now she could jar and summon it easily. The beauty was that it burnt hot enough for warmth, but not hot enough to really be dangerous.

"Freedom is lovely," Harry mused pointing up into the clear sky. "I know it's been a while, Hermione, and don't look directly at it, but that yellow ball in the sky is what we call 'the sun'."

"Oh, the sun," Hermione said the words slowly. "Yes, I've read about that. Though isn't it supposed to be warm?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I've never felt so lied to!"

The three of them burst into laughter before returning to _Quidditch through the Ages._ Hermione would have to return it soon, but she was happy it gave Harry a small sense of relief. She didn't want to admit her father was right, but from what she was reading, Quidditch seemed awful. How could something be both so dull and dangerous? She once again turned her thoughts to how to tell them that her father told her to stay away from Quirrell.

"What do we have here?"

"Gah!" Hermione jumped kneeing the book cover and steadying herself before she had the chance to knock over the jar.

"Must you always do that, little girl?" her father gave an exasperated sigh and placed a hand on her head. "And what do you have there, Potter?"

"A library book?" Harry replied.

"Sorry, Potter," he held out his hand. He did not look sorry. "Library books aren't allowed outside the school. Give it here."

To Hermione's surprise he only gave a resigned sigh before handing over the book.

"You should know better, dear," he turned his gaze to her before lowering his voice and speaking in French. "I know first and second years are supposed to spend certain hours outside, but no one enforces them. You should be somewhere where you can be easily found. _Penses avant faire, ma fille."_

" _Oui,"_ she nodded.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"Oh, he was just threatening to let slip to the entire class that I was afraid of Mrs. Norris until I was six if I continue teaching Fred and George Japanese." Hermione shrugged hoping she was convincing.

"I'm afraid of Mrs. Norris now," Ron scoffed. "No one would blame you."

"I bet he made that rule up," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I wish," Hermione said. "It's one of those rules no one but Madam Pince cares about. So teachers _selectively_ enforce it."

"What do you think happened to his leg?" Harry asked as he eyed her father limping away.

Hermione bit her lip and gulped. She didn't have a story yet! How the hell could she not have a cover story?

"Dunno," Ron scoffed. "But I hope it's _really_ hurting him."

" _Ron!"_ Hermione hissed. "He's still a humanbeing, and my fucking _father!"_

"Sorry, Hermione," Ron said sheepishly.

"It's fine," she said. "Sorry for snapping. I'm not angry...just..." she sighed. "Disappointed."

"You sure sounded angry," Ron grumbled.

"He didn't tell you what happened did he?" Harry asked changing the subject.

_Not in so many words._

* * *

_Hermi-chan!_

_It's been a couple weeks, is everything alright? Mid-terms and pre-holiday exams must be underway. I imagine those are stressful. You told me once my letters were the highlight of your week. Yours are the highlight of mine. This is my first year boarding, and with everyone so busy, even in the clubs, I feel so alone. Please, write me back._

_Love,_

_Hiro-kun._

That was the single shortest letter Hiro had ever sent her. When _was_ the last time she wrote him. It had been weeks. Hermione had been so preoccupied after Hallowe'en that she had stopped writing. In the past three weeks, she'd written him once. Had she forgotten that he was just as loney as she had been? This was so unfair. Splitting her time between Harry, Ron, Fred and George, as well as the assorted unending tasks with her father. Every other moment was spent studying. But Hiro needed her, and she had all but vanished when things in her life got complicated. Was she a shitty friend?

_Hiro-kun,_

_I am so sorry! I am quite busy, but it's no excuse!_

How much should she tell him? It would be wonderful to have someone to confide in, but would it put him in danger too? All the way in Japan she doubted it, but what if her owl was intercepted? What did that mean for them? No, she had to keep it to herself.

_I suppose I was waiting for something interesting to happen to tell you. Nothing keeps happening. I'm sorry to leave you feeling so lonely. That was never my intent. Please, tell me everything and I promise I'll reply._

_Love,_

_Hermi-chan_

Hermione left the girls' dormitory to run to the owlery and send off her letter when she was cut off .

"Hey, Hermione!" George waved her over to the table.

"I thought she'd been spirited away!" Fred teased.

"Just busy with studying," Hermione shrugged with a weak smile. "Don't feel too neglected, I just got a letter-full from Hiro."

"If you're neglecting him you _must_ be busy!" George laughed.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "I have to send this off, but let's play exploding snap when I get back. Promise."

"Archimedes!" Hermione groaned at the owl overhead as she crossed the third floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Distracted by the owl tailing her she kept looking back. Hermione instantly regretted it as she bumped into some one. "Shit! Sorry!"

"Language, Hermione Elizabeth," her father groaned. "And are you honestly _still_ wondering around alone?"

"Just sending a letter off before curfew and going back, nothing to worry about," she said. _I might have had a witness handy had you not scared off Neville. The poor boy's terrified to come within a metre radius of me! So thanks for that!_

"You do realize you could have simply given the letter to me to send off? We do have an owl."

" _You_ have an owl, Dad," Hermione sighed. "I'm not interested in being treated differently than other students. Is it just Archimedes you have stalking me or did you get the house-elves in on it too?"

"The idea crossed my mind," he seethed before switching to French. "Have you _any_ idea how dangerous it is for you to be milling about right now?"

Hermione whistled and Archimedes flew to her. She gave the owl the letter while maintaining eye-contact with her father. "There," she seethed in kind. "I'll do as you please if I can lose the nanny-owl."

"Getting upset with me does not change the reality of the situation, Hermione," he hissed. "You will just have to trust that I know best."

"I'm not upset," she sighed rubbing her temples. "Just-"

"Disappointed?" he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "You'll be even more disappointed if you don't start listening to me!"

 _He's worried, don't get angry, just breathe._ "Understood, sir," she sighed. "I'll be heading back now," her eyes dropped to his leg. "Maybe take your own advice, be careful."

"Hermione," he whispered. _"Restes ici,"_ he switched back to English. "If you're passing pass. Anything we have to say to each other is none of your business."

"S-s-sorry," Quirrell squeaked. "I-I was simply p-p-passing and d-d-didn't w-w-want t-t-to i-in-trude."

"Keep walking then," he snarled before wrapping an arm around Hermione.

 _Keep him away from that corridor!_ "Actually, Professor," Hermione said. "Fred Weasley was looking for you. Seemed to think it was important. I imagine he'll be waiting either at the staffroom or your office, sir."

"Oh, erm, o-of c-c-course, d-d-dear," Quirell huffed before skittering toward the stairs.

"You made that up, didn't you?" her father muttered in her ear.

"Lie to a teacher, _me?"_ Hermione asked innocently, voice still low. "Maybe I did, but it keeps him the hell away from the forbidden corridor now, doesn't it?"

"Come along, you are going to tell me _everything_ you know!"

* * *

"This _Nancy Drew_ nonsense stops now!" Severus hissed. "Did nearly getting killed by the troll not provide enough excitement for you?!"

"You told me to keep my distance, and I'm keeping it," Hermione sighed. "I'm not actively _looking_ for trouble. I simply noticed Quirrell's fascination with the forbidden corridor, and put two and two together at after you both exchanged looks like you wanted to kill each other on Hallowe'en. Then you told me to look out for him. Just because I know that he's after whatever artifact you lot are guarding doesn't mean I'm looking to confront him on the matter."

Hermione couldn't seem to decide whether she was nervous or angry as she told him about the mounting evidence against Quirrell, and how she found it. She wasn't lying, but he couldn't help but feel that she omitted details. From what she said, it seemed like she alone noticed these things and pieced them together. However, she had mentioned that the proverbial nail in the coffin came from Potter off-handedly mentioning that he'd met Quirrell in Diagon Alley the day Gringott's was broken into.

"He mentioned it when the article came out," she gave another exasperated sigh. "It links it all together quite nicely," she mused. "But I know there isn't a soul who would believe me, so you can put any worries of me running my mouth off to rest."

" _Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!"_ he snapped. "Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that again! What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Erm, sorry, sir, " she said, her usual demeanor returning. "I'm not looking to get myself or anyone else in danger. I'll keep my distance from him. Knowing that he's after the artifact doesn't change that."

"And your little re-direct?" he asked. "Did you not think Quirrell would piece together you lied to him?"

"You would have done the same, Dad," she explained.

Indeed, he was about to do something similar if he noticed Quirrell heading toward the forbidden corridor. She was right, but Quirrell would hesitate in going after him, Hermione was a child, and already drawing too much attention her way. He wished he was more certain of his suspicions earlier. He could have sent her to another school, explained that he didn't trust himself to keep professional with his own daughter, that could have _easily_ gotten her accepted elsewhere. Quirrell might have died back on Hallowe'en if Severus didn't try to stop him. He wished he'd simply looked for Hermione and left Quirrell to his fate. So many mistakes, and all of them put Hermione in harm's way. How could he make it right?

"Yes, Hermione," he said. "I, as an adult and fully-trained wizard, would have lured him away. And I would have used something less transparent than your little lie! Have you _any_ idea how much danger you've put yourself in?"

Hermione dug her nails into the back of her hand once more as she stared at her feet. Ten years and she was still as helpless as she'd been the day he brought her to the school. How could he be so reckless as to let Quirrell know he was on to his little act? _'I'm a bloody coward'_ _! You have_ no _idea how I wish that were the case. Oh, baby girl, I am so sorry!_

"Hermione," he said resting his hand on her head. "I don't want to find you anywhere alone. If you are not with me or in class you should be safely tucked away in Gryffindor tower. And if I hear about another nightly exploration, I am pulling you out of classes and tutoring you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yessir,"she nodded carefully.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted to a distant corner of the floor and he knew that she was mulling something over in her little head. The girl always did love a puzzle, something literal danger should have deterred her from. How he longed for a time when she would seek refuge behind his knees, had this all happened then he wouldn't have to contend with _her_ to keep her safe. She then shut her eyes, something she did when she suspected he was on to her, and he again remembered the curse of having a clever child. Hermione was clever enough to piece together Quirrell's guilt, but not wise enough to let it alone. His worst fears had come to fruition and he worried she wouldn't live to see her twelfth birthday.

"Whatever you're thinking of," he said lifting her chin. "Leave it be. You're just going to have to trust that I know best."

"Whatever the artifact is," Hermione whispered. "It has to be incredibly important, something that could do some very serious damage...isn't it wrong for me to ignore it?"

" _You did_ not _just say that!"_ Severus hissed.

"Well, isn't it?"

"Who else knows?" he asked, slowly reaching for his wand. _She's observant, don't let on..._

"No one, sir," she whispered eyes scanning the room. "Is someone listening in?"

 _Damn it,_ he was spotted. Severus threw his arms around her, wand in hand. Her tiny body tensed with suspicion, and he had only once had been so disgusted with himself. His throat tightened and with a shaking hand he brought his wand to his daughter's head.

"Dad..." Hermione's voice cracked and she looked up him, betrayed, tears filling her large brown eyes.

" _Obliviate,"_ he whispered, his own voice cracking.

Hermione fell unconscious in his arms and he had to stop himself from crying as well. When she woke, she would have no clue of Quirrell's treachery, she wouldn't remember an artifact being kept in vault 317, or the fact that it was moved to the school. With more details he could have been more thorough, but he hadn't planned to wipe her memory, and with her insistence, he had to act now. The only problem was that she didn't know to avoid Quirrell, but he had ways to deal with that. She'd remember being told not to go anywhere outside of class or detention and the threat to pull her from classes. That should have served as a good enough deterrent.

 _I'm sorry, love,_ he thought picking her up gently. _But there is nothing I will stop at to keep you safe._


	10. Quidditch and Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go awry during Harry's first Quidditch game, and a memory-wiped Hermione has to interpret the few bits of evidence she has.

"I don't really remember..." Hermione explained to Fred at breakfast. "My father wanted to talk to me, I fainted in his office, next thing I knew I was in the hospital."

"What did he want to talk to you about...?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Wandering the corridors alone is strictly forbidden," she sighed with an eyeroll. "if I'm not in class or detention I'm to be in my dormitory, if I'm caught he'll pull me out of classes and personally tutor me. You know, the usual."

"Usual?" Ron choked before a meaningful glance with each of the twins. "I take back _everything_ I ever said about Mum being overbearing!"

"No, you don't," George teased.

"And we don't either," Fred shrugged. "You'll understand when you meet our mum, Hermione."

"Terrifying!" George finished. "But at least we didn't spend eleven years locked in a dungeon."

"I didn't spend eleven years locked in a dungeon, George," she admonished with an eyeroll. "I was allowed to roam the castle once in a while. Did you think I astral projected to teach you card-counting?"

"I thought it was a jail-break!" Fred laughed.

"Why's he tightening his grip?" Harry asked. "It's like he expects something to happen."

"I'm sure he does," Hermione sighed lowering her head to the table. "If he can be believed, I almost died three times before I was two. I think the incident with the troll spooked him."

"Well," Ron said pushing her plate closer to her. "If you're not leaving meals early any more maybe you can have more than a single slice of toast."

"You sound like my father..." Hermione grumbled.

"No," George mused.

"He sounds like Mum!" Fred finished.

Ron's ears turned pink and he turned to his own plate.

After classes Harry, Ron and Hermione worked on their charms homework together in the more or less empty Gryffindor common room. Fred, George, Lee and Angelina were out somewhere, and others were milling about in the very rare November sun. Hermione explained how mind-effecting charms worked in theory, and how those and simple physical charms were related when Harry changed the subject in a low voice leaning in. "Erm, Hermione," he said. "If the troll incident spooked him, why is he forbidding you from leaving the tower _now_? Why not back then?"

" _Honestly_ , Harry!" Hermione snapped. "You're not still seriously on about my father chasing whatever the cerebus is guarding?"

"Are you still on about Quirrell?" Harry said.

"On about Quirrell? What the hell are you talking about?" Hermione sighed.

"You can't deny it just because you're embarrassed you were wrong!" Ron snapped. "You're the one who insisted it was Quirrell after the artifact!"

"Artifact?" Hermione asked. "When did we decide it was a magical artifact?"

" _You_ did!" Ron groaned. "When Harry described it."

"Wait!" Hermione whispered. "You _saw_ it?"

"Wrapped in parcel paper, I already told you!" Harry snapped. "Are you going to have me go over the whole day again? I thought pointless interrogations was your father's hobby!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Hermione cried.

"Fine!" Ron yelled. "Stay in bloody denial!"

What the hell were these two talking about? Hermione had never suggested Quivering Quirrell was some mastermind out to get whatever the cerebus was guarding. Why would she? And Hermione had no recollection of interrogating Harry on anything...Were they messing with her? Would they be so frustrated if they were just messing with her? She bit her lip and sighed putting her head on the table.

"You really don't remember," Harry whispered. "Do you?"

* * *

"I don't seem to recall agreeing to share custody, headmaster" Severus said with a raised eyebrow. "It's for the girl's own good."

Severus had met with Dumbledore over tea to discuss the stone's protections, or lack there of. He had told Dumbledore he needed to speak with him on the matter. And Dumbledore invited him up to his office for tea, like a good Brit. Cold out? drink tea! A difficult conversation with your boss? tea! Erase your daughter's memory in order to protect her, betraying the only person to ever trust you and don't know how to cope with the guilt? Well, Severus suspected he just wasn't British enough for that to work.

"I wouldn't dream of lecturing you on parenting," Dumbledore explained. "But I do believe there'd be no harm in letting her attend her best friend's first Quidditch match. Nor is there any harm in you taking a break and enjoying the sunshine."

Severus turned his thoughts to the grey skies all week. "Unless something drastic happens tomorrow, I don't believe _any_ of us will be enjoying the sun."

Dumbledore smirked and peered at him over his glasses. That man always made him feel like a child. "Do what you will, Severus, it was simply a friendly suggestion."

"I'll take your friendly suggestion under advisement," he replied coldly. "But with that poor girl's luck, she'd be struck in the head by a stray bludger."

"I doubt you would let such a thing happen," Dumbledore chuckled. "I feel like you'd be at the girl's side if she so much as got a paper-cut."

"Hallowe'en should adequately disprove that theory!" Severus pinched his temples. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand? Why are we protecting the Stone with games and puzzles? Why is the lock not enchanted? It's only a matter of time a first-year student uses a spell taught _in their classes_ to unlock the door and have _Fluffy_ bite their little head off. We _know_ the honour system doesn't work here. In fact, I'm amazed the Weasley twins haven't gotten themselves killed in the name of mischief. I'm certain your announcement about the corridor causing death enticed as many as it frightened off. Is it not better to simply guard the philosopher's stone with impassable enchantments rather than purposefully passable?"

"Parenthood has made you paranoid, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled again. "Actually, no, you've always been cautious. That's why I know I can trust you."

"Am I to be flattered or insulted?" he asked knowing he didn't deserve such a great man's trust.

"Neither, Severus," he said. "I simply speak the truth. I imagine Hermione is very lucky to have such a vigilant father watching out for her."

Did he know? Severus's stomach tied itself in knots and he couldn't erase the image of Hermione's tear-filled eyes looking up at him with a distinct mixture of anger, fear and despair that he had never seen before. It was as if her whole little world came crashing down around her in a second. No, not as if, it did come crashing down around her. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her not attack her. Yet he had to, she was too much at risk if he let her keep the memories. He wondered if she would ever understand? It didn't matter, as far as she was concerned she simply fainted, and there was no way to contradict that. Why did he care if he disappointed her? She was safe, that was all that mattered. Of course he wanted a good relationship with his daughter, he wanted her to have faith in him, to be proud of him, but those were luxuries he couldn't afford. _If wishing for her safety makes me the bad guy, I don't care._

"But I do need to remind you that you agreed to look out for another child," Dumbledore looked at him over his glasses and once again making him feel like a child.

Severus hadn't _not_ been looking out for the Potter boy. But he knew he was right, a Quidditch match was a perfect place to have an "accident". How could he not think of it? All Quirrell needed to do was enchant a bludger, hex his broom, launch a rogue object his way, no one would even realize it was murder if he was sly enough...he _had_ to be there to ensure nothing happened. Keeping the boy alive might begin to prove more difficult. Why the hell did McGonagall assign him a role on the Quidditch team? Not only was he too young, but he was a target for anyone who might support Voldemort. Fine, he'd go. He wondered if there was anyway for him to insist Quirrell sit next to him. That would make his life so much easier.

"If you think there's a chance of him being attacked you should consider cancelling the match," he suggested.

"I suppose you think I should put the boy under strict orders not to leave Gryffindor tower outside of classes and meals?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrow.

"I know what you're doing," Severus groaned. "Your criticisms of my parenting choices aside; yes, I do believe the boy would be better off under those circumstances."

"Do you think any orders can contain James and Lily Potter's son?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Point taken, sir," he sighed.

* * *

"I hate to ask..." Harry started.

Hermione rolled her eyes and magically dried the ink in her letter to Hiro and set it aside. "Ask Harry, I promise not to bite your head off again."

"I still can't believe you don't remember any of it," Harry shook his head. "Do you think you hit your head when you fainted?"

"Maybe," she mused.

Forgetting everything to do with Quirrell and the artifact seemed awfully suspicious, and convenient for Quirrell if she was at all right. But the last person she spoke to before she fell unconscious was her father. He had done some pretty terrible things in the past under the impression they were to keep her safe. See, eleven years locked in a dungeon...sort of...but she simply refused to believe he would use a memory charm on her. Why would he? No, she hit her head, it explained the memory and the headaches.

"I'm just glad you still remember all the goblin rebellions!" Ron scoffed. "I can't believe how many their are!"

"Is that all I am to you?" Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "There's more to me than the ability to remember class-readings, you know!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You're also fun to destroy in chess!"

"I also happen to be a very gifted catastrophizer!" Hermione laughed. "Sorry, Harry, what did you want to ask?"

"Any chance you can get that book back from Snape? There's no reason for me to hesitate, but you _are_ his daughter, so it would be easier for you to ask than one of us."

"Sure," Hermione said. "It was signed out in my name anyway I'll just-crap!"

"Hermione?" Ron and Harry asked.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Harry!" Hermione shrank and dug her nails into her hands. "I just, erm, well, I, erm...Dad told me that if he caught me in the corridors he wouldn't hesitate to pull me out of classes!"

"Right," Ron said. "You told us Monday, I can't believe we forgot."

"It's fine!" Hermione said. "I'm not sure if he can really make good on that threat...maybe I will go. He does seem to _hate_ you. Yeah, I'll-"

"Stay here and get Ron straight on the Goblin rebellions while I get the book," Harry said. "I'd sooner deal with one stupid comment from your father than have you pulled out of classes."

"Really?" Hermione squeaked. _Damn it! I must sound insane._ She still felt legitimate surprise when others did things for her.

"I wanted the book in the first place," Harry shrugged. "I'll be back."

* * *

"Still not willing to see Pomfrey about that leg?" Filch asked leaning against the staffroom table.

"No need," Severus said wrapping fresh bandages around his mangled leg. _Two weeks and it still hurts like hell!_ "I am more than capable of handling this on my own. " _If I couldn't, I would have already lost the leg._

"It certainly looks like that," Filch grumbled.

"You sound like my eleven-year-old," he rolled his eyes. "Though I suppose if someone had to find out, I'm glad it was you. No one else would have believed it."

The two shared a rare and meaningful glance. The two had a strained relationship since the day he started, both more or less hated by the rest of the staff, they were on fragile amicable terms with one another. That fragile bond built on a mutual frustration with the rest of the school meant Filch didn't pry for details, simply accepting he was trying to prevent an intruder from entering the corridor, and agreed to inform him when he saw movement at night. Though they still exchanged venom at each other from time to time. But outside Dumbledore, this was the closest thing either had to an adult friendship, so they tolerated it.

"The blasted thing has three heads," Severus grumbled. "How was I supposed to keep an eye on all three?"

A small form peeked through the door caught in his peripheries and he turned to see Potter staring at him, his face pale and mouth slightly agape. The boy must have heard every bloody word...how could he have been so stupid? He could erase the memory, but he couldn't do that in front of Filch, nor could he take Potter to the hospital wing claiming he fainted. Everyone knew the two didn't get along. Suspicions would be high.

"POTTER?!"

"I, erm, was just wondering if I could have my book back, sir?" he said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

So Potter and Hermione had _something_ in common after all. They both had an _incredible_ knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"LEAVE!" he shouted.

All he could do was hope he had no clue what he was talking about, but he did wonder if Potter had an idea of what lie behind the locked door. That face, something had been turning over in his mind, and it was more than the shock of seeing a bloodied, mangled leg. He would have to keep a better eye on the boy.

"Shit!" he spat.

* * *

"Look," Hermione told Harry. "I know my dad hasn't been very nice, but he wouldn't do it! You don't understand the respect he has for Dumbledore. He would never steal from Dumbledore! Dumbledore _trusts_ him! I'll personally-"

"I can't imagine he admires Dumbledore that much," Ron said. "And he seems to tolerate him more than trust him. Honestly, Hermione, do you think every teacher is a saint?"

"He's my father!" Hermione snapped. "And if you don't buy that Dumbledore trusts him _I_ trust him!"

"Hermione," Harry whispered. "The man locked in you in a _literal_ dungeon for eleven years. Just because he raised you doesn't mean you should trust him unconditionally."

"Hark who's talking!" Hermione seethed. "Your aunt and uncle locked you in a _cupboard_ for eleven years! And for the _last time, I was not locked in a dungeon for eleven years!"_ _At least not technically..._

"Which is why I am the best person to tell you that!" Harry snapped. "Can you honestly tell me that what Snape's doing is that different from the Dursleys?"

"Yes!" Hermione cried. "The Dursleys were trying to tear you down because they can't stand magic. _They_ were _trying_ to be harmful. My dad doesn't hate me. I almost _died,_ Harry! Several times! Ever since I was little I could see the fear in his face when he had to leave me. _He's worried!_ "

The three sat in silence over their history books and Hermione wondered if motive really did make a difference. It had to. Harry described his childhood and no part of it sounded like hers. Sure, Hermione was isolated, but she was talked to, held, read to, tolerated, told she was loved. Harry enjoyed none of those things and she did, even if it wasn't always reliable. And as desperate as she had been to see other children, she wasn't offered like some sacrificial lamb the way Harry was. These things mattered. Her father's intentions mattered. They _had_ to!

"That was brilliant, Hermione!" George came up from behind her.

"Though I'm beginning to-" Fred changed tone as the two saw there faces. "What's going on?"

"Did Ron say something stupid again?" George mused.

"No!" both Ron and Hermione snapped.

"Bad timing," Fred said. "We'll talk to you-"

"Fred," Hermione sighed. "It'll bother me if I don't know. What was so _brilliant_?"

"Telling Quirrell that I was looking for him," he laughed.

"He's been after us all week," George explained.

"He can't tell the two of us apart," Fred smirked.

"So, naturally, Fred said he was me when Quirrell found him!"

"And George simply told the truth!"

"That _is_ brilliant!" Ron agreed with a laugh.

"Not still on about Quirrell then?" Harry scoffed.

"We had no clue what Hermione actually wanted us to do," Fred shrugged.

"But we thought that would be in line with something she'd expect!" George said.

"So what'd he do?" Fred asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hermione groaned. She didn't remember _any_ of this! Even if Quivering Quirrell of all people did something to get on her bad side, she'd do something about it herself. She wouldn't sick the twins on someone. She didn't even know she had that power until now. _Oh the power of pity._

"What did Quirrell do to earn your wrath?" George smirked.

"When did he start?" Hermione asked.

"He said I was looking for him Sunday evening," Fred mused. "Why?"

Sunday...that was when she fainted. Must have been something that she forgot...why did she forget everything about Quirrell and the artifact? If Hermione _did_ sick the twins on him, she thought she'd remember why she would do something like that. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, digging her nails into the backs of her hands. What happened? This was giving her a headache. She rubbed her temples.

Harry and Ron joined in on the interrogation until Hermione's head hit the table. Hermione stared at the lot of them, three pairs of blue eyes and one of green boring into her. They wanted answers she just didn't have. She wished she did. She wished she remembered about the artifact, she wished she remembered why she suspected Quirrell, but it was gone. Nothing more than a line or two in her journal at most- _her journal!_ She hadn't been reliable, but maybe she wrote enough about it to make sense of it and shake suspicion off her father! Hermione vowed to start writing in it _nightly_.

"I'm not feeling well," Hermione rubbed her temples again. "Sorry, but I don't remember. I hit my head when I fainted."

She left the four to weak well wishes from each of them. She noticed Ron and Harry exchange a meaningful look and she wondered if they had the same suspicions she did.

" _Lumos,"_ she whispered as she opened her journal from beneath the covers of her bed.

Under the covers, in the dark, curtains drawn. Hermione wrote her journal in Elvish, Goblin and Japanese alternating between entries. She felt so paranoid, but she didn't trust her father not to read it when she lived with him and she felt like Pavarti and Lavender would definitely read it to make fun of her if they could. A million measures made her feel safe. Maybe her father's paranoia rubbed off on her?

She noticed just how infrequently she wrote, there were few entries since Hallowe'en. Few was generous, fourteen days past and she'd written three times. She started on Hallowe'en when she saw Quirell's name.

_I don't like the way they looked at each other. It was like Dad wanted to rip Quirrell's head off, and Quirrell looked like he was ready for it. I don't know what happened, but it sent chills down my spine. I'll have to keep an eye on the two of them. Somehow, I imagine Dad'll have me committed after the troll...goodbye, freedom._

The next meaningful entry was from the previous week.

_Harry says he met Quirrell on Diagon Alley the day the vault was broken into. Hanging around the third floor, following close to Dad when he was spotted on the third floor on Hallowe'en... Dad tells me to stay away from him, and now he's at the Leaky Cauldron the same day the vault was broken into? It has to be him. I need to believe this! Because if it wasn't Quirrell after the artifact..._

_Goddamnit, Wednesday Hermione!_ she thought bitterly. If it wasn't Quirrell then what? Couldn't she have written more? What was even the point of keeping a damn journal if it didn't give her back her memories when she lost them? What had she considered? The worst part was the last entry had said nothing of any of this. It was short, and either completely meaningless or entirely meaningful depending on what she was trying to work out.

_They have to be wrong. I refuse to believe it's him. Could it be?_

Friday Hermione was just as useless as Wednesday Hermione! That was it. Hermione resolved to write in much more detail moving forward, but she needed to know. Denial was comfortable, but what if she knew too much? What if someone wiped her memory? _You're being stupid and paranoid!_ She emerged from her gold and scarlet cocoon placed her journal in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder and swayed as she made it down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, guys," she said returning to the table.

Guilt fell on her shoulders as she saw Lee and Angelina had joined the four in a game of Exploding Snap. Laughter rang through the common room and she _hated_ her self when she saw the easy, rosy smiling faces of her friends. They were having fun until six sets of eyes turned to her rubbing her temples in concern.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I've had this headache all week," she murmured. "I'm really sorry, can one of you take me to the hospital wing?"

The six of them exchanged concerned glances before staring at her as if she announced she were dying.

"If not it's fine!" Hermione nervously laughed before hissing in pain. _At least the headache's real._

"All week?" Ron asked. "I hope it's not serious..."

"It's a headache, Ron," she said. "I'm not dying. I can probably take myself. Yeah, I should just go, my father can't pull me out for seeing after my health." _I hope. It's after hours..._

"You're barely standing," Fred looked at her swaying.

The swaying started as an act, before she saw them all gathered together having fun. But now she was legitimately dizzy. _God, Dad's right, I'm pathetic!_

"I'll take her," a voice said behind her.

Hermione turned to see Percy Weasley standing behind her, cleaning his glasses, standing kind stiff and erect. Was that boy ever at ease? He was nothing like his brothers, he shared the flaming red hair, the freckles and behind his glasses were the same blue eyes, but like Hermione, he didn't seem to understand how to relate to others. Which is why they were all very surprised that Perfect Prefect Percy had volunteered to head out after hours.

"I'm a prefect," he reminded them. "They'll probably think she's putting on an act if anyone catches you lot taking her. Come along, Hermione."

"I'm so, so sorry, Percy!" Hermione moaned again.

They hadn't even gotten half-way there before the entire world spun and Hermione had to sit to catch her breath. Percy looked around uneasy before it became obvious the dizziness wasn't going anywhere soon. He put her on his back, which is where she was as they made it to the floor of the hospital wing.

"It's fine," Percy said. "Fred's right, you're very light, so it's no problem."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Hermione asked. "You could have had me go on my own."

"Just because I don't join in on my brothers' schemes doesn't make me unfeeling," he told her. "I simply don't buy into that nonsense. And I don't think you do either. You seem to have _some_ sense about you."

"Sorry, Percy," Hermione bit her lip and buried her face into Percy's shoulder. She wasn't sure how to respond to him. Percy didn't seem to be half the unfeeling construct Ron, Fred and George made him out to be. But he could be so harsh at times, like anything unexpected terrified him. Hermione should have been more sympathetic to that. But one question remained. "But I'm... _me..._ other than those six, and I still have no clue what they see in me, erm, nobody's nice to me." _I might deserve it..._ "Why are you being nice to _me?"_

"Might have slipped your mind, Hermione," Percy shrugged. "But I don't seem to be liked either."

The walked their way in silence with Hermione's face still buried in his shoulder when she heard Filch's voice call out.

"Nine o'clock is after hours, aren't we in trouble?!" he grinned.

"I'm taking her to the hospital wing, Mr. Filch," he explained. "It'll be straight there and back."

"Get going then," he spat.

Just their luck, they had almost made it there before she heard the last voice she wanted to hear call out.

"What happened?!" her father snapped, nearly ripping her from Percy's back.

"She said she had a headache that wouldn't go away all week, sir," Percy explained.

"All week?" his voice softened and grew distant.

"Yessir. On our way to the hospital wing she got dizzy."

Did he buy Hermione was unconscious? Maybe he wouldn't grill her for not going to the hospital wing sooner, or ask her if she'd been remembering to eat. Or tell her that if she took better care of herself she wouldn't be wasting Pomfrey's time. She had no clue what to expect, but all of those seemed likely. She felt him adjust as he cradled her closer to him.

"I'll take her in, Mr. Weasley," he said. "You should return."

"Fainted again?" Pomfrey asked as her father set her on a bed. "You _carried_ her in here with your leg like that?"

 _His leg!_ Hermione should have at least attempted to walk, so he would have made some snide comments, but it was better than his leg falling off. She couldn't remember how he hurt his leg. Trying to remember made her headache worse.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you," he seethed before whispering "Shit."

"Sit down," she instructed.

"Percy Weasley brought was carrying her on his back. Claimed she had a headache all week and got dizzy."

"I won't ask about the leg as it seems you are trying so hard to hide it," Pomfrey groaned. "But I _am_ treating it."

"My daughter..."

"Is in good hands and is leagues better off than you! Now, let me see it!"

"I'm having flashbacks to my childhood," he groaned. "There!"

"Severus, what the hell happened?"

"What the hell happened to no questions?"

Pomfrey set to work, admiring the medical magic he'd already used, stating that if it wasn't for that she expected it'd be gone. She admonished him for carrying her in again and said that even with the neglect and damage she could have him up and healed by morning. He took her advice and for a moment Hermione was terrified he'd be staying overnight, but she soon heard him move.

"Should I be insulted?" Pomfrey pouted as Hermione felt the blanket over her straighten and form a cocoon.

"Be insulted if you're insulted," her father brushed locks of hair away from her face. "I don't really care. Regardless of my appreciation."

"The girl is fine!" she sighed. "Go, get some rest."

He left and Hermione let her eyes flutter open as Pomfrey prised her mouth open with a finger.

"What...?" Hermione groaned faking disorientation The room still spun, so she didn't have to work too hard.

"You're in the hospital," Pomfrey explained. "Drink this."

Hermione examined the bottle she handed her. It was dark and Hermione's vision wasn't the best at the moment. She couldn't identify it.

"I'm not going to poison a patient in my care or my most vindictive co-worker's daughter!" she snapped. "Drink it, child. Headache all week! Should have been here before it got so bad."

"Erm, sorry," Hermione obeyed. "Thanks."

"When did it happen?" she asked.

"Off and on since Monday," she admitted. "I must have hit my head pretty hard when I fainted." _Please tell me I did! Please!_

"Hit your head?" Pomfrey laughed. "Oh no, dear. You didn't even hit the ground when you collapsed. You were lucky your father was there, not even a bruise."

 _Didn't even hit the ground? Lucky my father was there? This_ can't _be happening!_

* * *

"How's your head?" Severus asked before the morning commotion.

"I'm fine, Dad," Hermione insisted getting out of bed. "Or do you doubt Madam Pomfrey can work miracles?"

"Don't let her overhear that," he said resting a hand on her head. "She's already convinced she's the second coming of Merlin."

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. It seemed less sincere than usual.

"Do you know what triggered it?" he asked.

"Eye-strain is the most likely culprit," she mused, but something was off in her voice. "You know how obsessive I get."

"That I do," he sighed. "You _need_ to be more careful, Hermione." Forgetting to take care of herself, reading till her eyes gave out, sure there might have been something she was hiding-no, she was _definitely_ hiding something-but it was still true.

"Yessir," she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"And stop doing that," he said. "You'll just create more work for poor Madam Pomfrey."

"Erm, sorry!" she stopped and played with the ends of her hair.

 _What is going on in that little head of yours, girl?_ He thought to ask, but knew he wouldn't get a straight answer. "I have some good news for you if you're released today."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"As it seems I am the only person who understands how little importance Quidditch holds, I have to attend the match," he said. "Enjoy the rare free Saturday if you're not dragged there yourself. Though knowing the Weasleys, I imagine you will." _If I wasn't confident you'd be surrounded by hundreds I have no clue what I'd do!_

"The whole day?" Hermione nearly squeaked in disbelief.

"Assuming you don't go off trying to get yourself killed," he sighed. "Yes. Don't do anything stupid."

"Define stupid?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

" _Hermione!"_

"Right, erm, sorry. Nothing stupid, sir."

* * *

"This is so exciting!" Ron nearly died holding one end of Dean's _Potter for President_ banner.

"Yeah," Hermione laughed.

As much as Hermione dreaded the corridors and meals, this was a new sort of crowding. She was shoulder to shoulder, crammed between Ron and Hagrid with unknown people in the row behind her. She dug her nails into her palm to stop herself from mentally shutting down. She wanted to so bad. Hermione always imagined she would enjoy being surrounded by people, but the energy, the shouting, the bodies, Hermione wanted to shrink until she was nothing. _A Gryffindor afraid of crowds? I'm so pathetic!_

"You've must've seen loads of these!" Ron beamed. "I've always wanted to see one live!"

"From me hut, Ron," Hagrid said. "Very different here in the stands."

"What about you, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You grew up in the school right?"

"I don't think so!" Hermione let out a laugh. "Dad _hates_ quidditch. I thought I did too from what I've heard and read, but it has bought me a free Saturday."

"He didn't bring you to a single match?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I was a sick kid," Hermione lied. "I'm sure he was just concerned it would be too much excitement for me." _This_ is _too much!_

"I wonder what your-" Ron started but was cut off by the Gryffindors filing out on to the pitch. "Look!"

* * *

"Pleased you made it," Dumbledore chuckled.

"I didn't have anything better to do," Severus shrugged sitting beside the old man.

Dumbledore was right, the grey November skies turned clear and blue, as if to herald Potter in. Whatever gift Hermione had for predicting probabilities, she had nothing on Dumbledore. A sunny day in November, in Scotland.

"You'd think you'd attend a match when your house was involved," McGonagall tutted. "But it seems after years of not being able to attend, you still wish you weren't."

He _did_ prefer spending the hours of match-time alone with his child. What parent wouldn't? It was a reliable four times a year where he wouldn't be called upon and he was permitted the rare glimpse into that little mind of hers. Which only became rarer as she got older. Though after Sunday he hardly blamed her. Parental angst aside, he was here for a reason.

"Aren't you co-announcing with Jordan?" he asked scanning both the staff and student stands. "Seems like a full house. Where's Quirrell?"

"I do imagine he will show," Dumbledore said in such a way that he imagined Quirrell was already there.

After a cheeky exchange suggesting the other's team would crush theirs, McGonagall took off and Severus glued his eyes to Potter. Nothing was going to happen to that boy. Everything was going to be fine and he will have wasted an afternoon. He looked forward to lording that over Dumbledore next time Gryffindors played. Too damn bright and too damn crowded.

Irony was a cruel, cruel mistress. Severus had settled in to his boredom when the game progressed as usual for perhaps an hour when it happened. Amid the clear blue sky he saw Potter jerking around, he braced himself against his broomstick as much as he could, but his legs flailed about like a ragdoll. At first, he thought the boy lost control until the broomstick tried to buck him off!

"Shit!" he gasped.

The stands erupted with panic, and Severus started muttering the first countercurse that came to mind. He couldn't save Lily, but he could save her son.

* * *

"Shit!" Hermione squeaked watching in horror as Harry clung to the rogue broom. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"I don't get it!" Ron said peering through Hagrid's binoculars. "What's going on?!"

"Can I see those?" Hermione whispered.

He passed her them and Hermione scanned the crowd. _Please don't be him!_ A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and her chest tightened as she settled on someone reciting a spell maintaining eye-contact. He didn't even blink..

Hermione shut her eyes and opened them again, but the greasy, dark-haired pale form of her father still stared at Harry like breaking eye-contact would kill him. _No!No!No!Shit!Shit!Shit!_

Hermione leaped up from the spot handing the binoculars to an agape Ron. She fled the stands like a girl possessed and hid behind the stands. She would run the perimeter of the pitch to avoid detection, but she had to be fast. She sped past the empty perimeter not taking in anything but the direction her feet took her and the burning in her lungs.

She was so oblivious that she crashed head first into Quirrell's side, sending them both to the frosty grass. He stared at her in shock for a moment, his eyes wide open, mouth agape and face paled as if the Dark Lord himself threw himself into him rather than a little girl barely half his size. She didn't have time to ask why he watched transfixed from the perimetre or why he looked so frightened. He was Quivering Quirrell after all.

"Shit! Sorry!" Hermione cried forgetting her language and ran off before feeling fingertips brush her arm, too late to grab her. _Probably wants to chastise me. That's why. Nothing sinister..._

Finally she arrived behind the teachers' stands and Hermione prepared herself for the impossible, and summoned the bluebell flames she had created. Sure, they didn't burn as hot as real flames, but that meant she setting her father's robes aflame would only serve as a distraction. It took him a moment to recognize it, and she heard a string of curses from him, which was her cue to coax the flames into the jar she kept in her pocket. Hermione watched for a moment between the stands and noticed Harry regaining control of the broom. Hermione placed her shoes in her bag, and crept away as slowly and quietly as she could, steering clear of Quirrell.

"What did you _do_?" Ron whispered in amazement under the cheering Gryffindors.

"What I had to," She drew her legs up to her chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

Ron's eyes grew again in size and opened his mouth before dropping it.

Hermione buried her head in her knees and tried to push down the nausea. Now that the danger was gone Hermione could feel every inch of her body, every bit protesting its own existence. Sure no harm came from it, but she _attacked_ her father. Her only living family, she set him on fire. Who _did_ that? But she had to...Hermione now had to live with the knowledge that her father wanted to kill her friend. _Tried_ to kill her friend. What was she supposed to do with that information? Was that why he erased her memory? Because she was on to him?

"Blimey," Hagrid said. "You'd think she was the one who nearly died. You alrigh', Hermione?"

"I left the stands to be sick," Hermione lied. _Why is lying so easy?_ "And I did exactly that. _On Quirrell."_ _He'd never deny it._ "It was so embarrassing!"

Harry eyed her with suspicion from beside Hagrid, and Ron had given her the same look. They knew there was more to the story, and she had to find away to help them without implicating her father.

"You mean Fluffy?" Hagrid asked when Harry said he suspected someone (he glanced at Hermione at the 'someone') was trying to get whatever the cerebus was guarding.

" _Fluffy?"_ Ron scoffed incredulously. "You _named_ that thing?"

Hagrid explained to them that Fluffy was being lent to Dumbledore to keep the philosopher's stone safe. He didn't mean to tell them that. There were several times Hagrid said "I shouldna' told yer tha'!" during the whole thing.

"Who do yer think is tryna steal the ruddy thing, anyway?"

"Whoever just tried to kill Harry!" Hermione cried before either boy could implicate her father.

"What?!" Hagrid gasped. "Someone tried ter kill Harry?"

"The broomstick!" she snapped. "It was clearly jinxed. I know a jinx when I see one."

"Because you read abou' them I suppose?" Hagrid sighed. "Ya could have bin mistaken. Only very powerful dark wizards could jinx a broomstick from tha' far. A studen' couldna have done tha'."

"We don't think it's a student after the stone," Harry said. "We think it's-" he looked at Hermione. "a teacher."

"A teacher?! Blimey, Harry!"

" _Someone_ jinxed Harry's broom!" Hermione seethed. "You emptied the vault, it was broken into by someone _who knew_ it was there!Someone probably let the troll in as a distraction to get it, and now someone's trying to _kill_ Harry! Because he knows too much!"

All three of them could agree on this before Ron of all people turned to Hermione. "How do you know it was a jinx? I mean, you don't know who the caster was, so you didn't see it being cast."

"A benefit of being raised by a paranoid prat is that he got me to memorize all sorts of ways to recognize a hex," Hermione shrugged. "He's thorough, I've got to give him that."

All three of them stared at Hermione like she had grown two additional heads herself. She'd never once spoken about her father that way. It was as if they expected she was incapable of recognizing his faults. Hermione turned her attention to her, very cold feet. She didn't want to be caught drying her socks, so now she had soaked feet in her shoes. It was easier to think about that than where to go next. Harry saved her there:

"We know someone's trying to steal it, Hagrid," Harry said. "We'll just find out on our own if you don't tell us. Could be dangerous."

"Will ya stop tryna meddle inter thing's yer have no business meddlin' in! I'm no' tellin' yer about anymore about Fluffy, the stone, Nicholas Flammel or anythin'!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance to another groan from Hagrid.

"Don' do anythin'," Hagrid said. "I's no' safe, yer lot."

"We can't, Hagrid," Hermione shrugged. "Not with my father stalking us."

Hermione had no idea how true her words were as they left the hut, assuring Hagrid they would be well behaved. Not until Hermione saw a familiar set of yellow eyes peering at her from a near by tree branch.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Hermione face a stressful holiday after a falling-out. Snape is tasked with placing the Mirror of Erised, and Hermione continues to research the mysterious artefact and Nicholas Flammel.

Severus sighed and regarded the class more rambunctious than usual. Last day before the holidays, and the students were all very aware of this.

"I just feel awful," he heard Malfoy say among the noise. "For those who aren't wanted back home for the holidays!"

"Settle down," he said. "I'd like to commence the class some time before the holiday."

That shut the lot of them up. Fourteen heads turned to face him, eyes open and aware.

"Many teachers are wasting their last class before the holidays because they think it's good for you," he told them with an intentional note of frustration. "It's not. But seeing as I am the only teacher with enough sense to see this, I'm putting a stop to the scramble for partners next term. This will be an unfair exercise for those of you who take this class seriously, but I'm done pairing stragglers. This seems an easier method than teaching you to count to thirty."

Everyone looked at each other before turning their gaze to Longbottom. They took his meaning. Random pairings. This would be his approach to first and second year classes from then on. Malfoy raised his hand at the exact time as Parkinson. _And so begin the complaints_...

"What if we're already working well with our partners, Professor?" Malfoy asked.

"I admit it's unfair for some of you," he said. "But others," his eyes fell on Longbottom. "Are forcing my hand at the issue."

The chubby little boy squirmed in his chair and turned a violent shade of pink. Glares from students in both houses fell on him and he knew the boy would be blamed for this. Part of him felt pity, but he felt the boy deserved it. Longbottom should at least try to brew one potion correctly. While he was at it he could learn how to write a damn essay that.

There was at least one set of eyes not on Longbottom. He expected a nasty glare from Hermione, but instead she skipped that step and went straight to burying her face in her book.

"Miss Parkinson," he said. "You also had a question?"

"Can we trade if we get partners we don't think we'd work well with?" she asked.

 _Don't you mean partners that will do the work for you?_ "Afraid not, Miss Parkinson. There will be no changing, no trading, no refusals of work and no whinging. Am I understood?"

A collective "yessir" filled the classroom in grumbling tones. Nobody was happy. That was fine. At least there was one pairing he was happy with. He couldn't think who to rig Hermione with, perhaps the Patil girl, or the Thomas boy, _maybe_ the Zambini boy? That he decided to leave to fate, but he did set Potter and Longbottom up together. Petty, perhaps, but delicious all the same.

"I will call your names in alphabetical order, you will draw a number from this box, once everyone has retaken their seats the numbers will be be revealed and you will _quickly_ mobilize to your new pairs and begin the assigned potion for your number. The pair that has made the most progress will be exempt from the two-parchment roll essay on the healing properties of black mamba venom. The last pair will have to write a one-roll essay on the importance of timing."

"The hell!" a voice whispered.

"So unfair!" another whinged.

"I better not get Longbottom!" another grumbled.

 _"Silence!"_ he shouted. "Miss Brown, you're up! Today!"

The little blond girl gingerly approached, quickly drew her lot and skittered back to her seat. Everyone did this, including the Slytherins, perhaps catching his mood after questioning him. Yet Hermione, who crept along on the balls of her feet everywhere she went, approached quickly, did not make eye-contact, drew her lot as fast as she could and retreated with equal speed. _Still angry I see. I'd love to know what it was I_ _did_!

Since the Quidditch match she'd been off. She spoke when spoken to, and as little as she could get away with. Severus was dangerously close to becoming one of those parents that demanded a syllable count. But the girl at least stayed out of trouble. _Why are you so difficult?_

The class revealed their numbers to yet more whinging and Severus began saw how the idea could go so awry. Weasley wound up with Malfoy, that was going to be a disaster, but it did put to rest any accusations of rigging the pairs as it was clear he dreaded it as much as the boys did. Brown and Zabini were at each other's throats before they found their new seats, Patil and Finnegan snapped at each other, Crabbe and Goyle somehow wound up together, both clueless without someone else to take charge, and _somehow_ Hermione and Parkinson still wound up together. Thomas and Nott were the only pair that worked well together.

 _There will be no changing, trading, refusals of work or whinging! The hell have I fucking done?_ Lucius Malfoy was certain to send him an unpleasant letter with thinly veiled threats. By the time the class ended only two pairs managed to forgo petty bickering to get work done. Hermione and Parkinson had successfully brewed an elixir of owl-sight using Hermione's methods to speed it along-which led to a smaller yield. Thomas and Nott nearly finished their calming solution, only needing brewing time, but no one else was even close. Potter and Longbottom weren't even the furthest behind. That honour went to Malfoy and Weasley while they sabotaged each other. _Why are first and second years paired in the first place?_

"You are all behaving like toddlers!" He seethed. "Don't like your partner? I promise you won't like every co-worker you have! If the first class next term is anything like this and I'll be assigning another two-roll essay. Since you are all so adverse to team work, I'll be assigning the essays individually, so don't think you can simply help each other. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," the class grumbled.

"I'll be forgoing both the punishment paper and the winning pair will still have to compose the original essay. This will be the last time I attempt a challenge like this. But unless I see blood on the floor, the pairings stick."

"I give it quarter of an hour," Weasley muttered earning him a snigger from Potter and an eyeroll from Hermione.

"Five points from Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's highly inappropriate comment."

Groans and complaints echoed as the class let out and he set to work on ensuring everything was in order. Once the room was to his liking, which hadn't taken long at all, he decided to head upstairs. To the scent of pine and the sounds of angry childish voices spitting at each other. As he came up the stairs he found Hagrid, hidden by the massive pine he carried before him, and Weasley lunging at a smirking Malfoy while Potter and Hermione tried and failed to hold him back.

Weasley broke free of Potter's grasp as he dove, leaving the boy frazzled but in place.

"Don't let him pro-gah!" the momentum sent Hermione flying forward.

"WEASLEY!" he shouted.

That stopped the boy.

"Fighting, Weasley?" he sneered.

"He was provoked, Professor," Hagrid offered. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Provoked or not, fighting is still against the rules," he sighed. "That'll be another five points, Weasley," he then pointed to Hermione. "And next time you find yourself so provoked, I'd listen to her rather than launch her in an indiscriminate direction!"

Weasley looked at Hermione, the tips of his ears turning pink as he realised what he did. Shame now beat anger as the rest of his face flushed and he turned his gaze to the floor. No consequences would make Weasley give a damn about attacking Malfoy, but he hoped the shame of dragging someone who he claimed was his friend into it and potentially bringing her harm was all-consuming.

A hope that was dashed swiftly as Hermione spoke: "It's fine, Ron, really! I'm not so fragile I can't take a short fall!"

"Get where you're going, the lot of you!" he snarled." _Not you!_ " he hissed grabbing Hermione's arm before she before she could leave.

Everyone filed out, going to wherever they were headed leaving the two alone.

"Would you like to tell me just what the hell you were thinking?" his eyes scanned her for obvious injuries and found none. _At least you seem fine._ "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"Oh, Probably," she sighed folding her arms. "Why do you think I've gone mad this time?"

" _Hermione Elizabeth!"_ he snapped. "What is _wrong_ with you?" _And where the hell is this coming from?_

"I don't know," she hissed. "My own father thinking I've 'lost my damn mind' might have something to do with it!"

" _This_ conversation again?!" he seethed. "Must you interpret every criticism of your lapses of judgement as accusations you've gone mad? Perhaps you think I should leave you to your self-destructive behaviour in peace?"

" _Self-destructive?_ " Hermione scoffed.

"If you're looking for examples I have plenty!" he snapped. "You nearly got yourself _killed_ by a troll, sneaking around at night, nosing through the business of adults and now you're throwing yourself into fights!"

"I was trying to _stop_ Ron, Dad!" she argued. "I fail to see how-"

"You dove into a fight, Hermione!" he yelled. "I don't care how noble you think your motives were. Have you any idea how reckless that was?"

"For the-" Hermione slapped her forehead. "Nothing would have happened to me!"

"I'm not so confident you aren't stupid enough to dive between them to stop them!"

"Maybe I am!" Hermione hissed. "I'm just a pathetically naive, stupid little girl who lost her damn mind!"

Did the girl keep a bloody record everything he said to her while chastising her? She glared at him, her tiny shoulders near shaking with rage. Tears sprang to her eyes in some mixture of anger and hurt and it was now apparent why she was avoiding him. _I s_ _hould be surprised this didn't happen sooner, stupid piece of shit!  
_

"Hermione," he sighed trying to level his voice. _You're the_ _adult_... "The problem is your poor sense of judgement, not you. _However,_ it should not be too much to ask for you to think for a _second_ before doing something reckless! If you have the ability to recall every damn word I've said to you, I'm certain you can consider the consequences of your actions."

"I'm not sure I do recall _every_ word," Hermione glared at him.

 _Did she find out?_ He wondered. If no one else knew, how the hell could she know? Were there gaps removing Quirrell's suspicious behaviour left? Did he read somewhere that straining to remember things removed could cause a headache? Maybe Pomfrey found out...but how? If no one else knew, what could have prompted her to try to remember? Maybe she thought his orders to stay in her dormitory when not in class or detention were suspect? All he knew was that she was upset and blamed him for it. If his suspicions were right, she had every right to. "I'm not sure I take your meaning, little girl," he replied coolly.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed losing what resolve she had, returning her gaze to the floor and, again digging her damn nails into her hands.

"Which is why you're so upset?" he asked softening his voice and resting a hand on her head. "Clearly, it does matter. _Talk_ to me, love."

Silence. Whatever she had wanted to accuse him of, she had changed her mind. She didn't even look at him, her gaze stayed on the ground as if waiting for it to swallow her. She dug her nails in deeper to her hands and she chewed her lip. Regret knotted his throat as he mentally ran over a million different ways this could have been better handled.

Not just this conversation, but also erasing her memory. If she found out she would have every right to never trust him. He saw it now for what it was, a stupid mistake that he could never undo. Hermione paid the price for it... _Stupid piece of shit..._

"I imagine you'll be wanting to catch up with the Weasleys before they go for the holidays," he sighed. "I have things I need to do. Just be more careful, okay, love?"

"Yessir," her voice cracked as she nodded.

She was gone and he wondered just how to repair things between them, or if he ever could.

* * *

"We should hit the library," Hermione said as they left Hagrid's.

"Yer holidays are just startin'," Hagrid chuckled. "Bit keen aren' ya three?"

The three of them exchanged glances and Hermione saw the familiar owl flying overhead. _Damn,_ she thought. She cut off Harry before he spoke. "It's one of _very_ few places on my father's list of acceptable places for me to be in when out of classes," she forced a bitter laugh. "We're making the most of it before it closes and I'm stuck in the tower all holiday. I'm not even supposed to be here."

_Does Archimedes have a way to communicate I was here?_

"He really _is_ a paranoid prat, isn't he?" Ron scoffed. "What does he expect to happen to you, anyway?"

"Hey!" Hermione elbowed him. "He may be a paranoid prat, but he's _my_ paranoid prat! Only _I_ get to say that!"

The three burst into laughter before Hermione noted the owl flying back to the school. She turned back to Hagird, who now wore a grim expression. He lowered himself to be eye-level with the three and whispered. "Jus' promise me yer not meddlin' anymore inter, erm, tha' stuff."

"Of course we're not," Ron said before a guilt ridden Harry or Hermione could give it away. "Hermione says she'll be pulled out if she steps a toe out of line, so we're all behaving."

"Ge' goin' then," Hagrid's warm smiled returned. "I'd hate ter be the reason little Hermione is pulled out."

"'little Hermione'?" Ron teased as they reached the library.

"Shut up, Ron," she sighed opening a book.

"How?" Harry groaned after an hour of combing over the books. "How is there _nothing_ on Nicholas Flammel or the philosopher's stone?"

"I don't know!" Hermione moaned hitting her head to the desk. "I was certain I read _something_ about him before. It's like the Pince took every mention of it from the library!"

"Do you remember anything?" Ron asked. "Anything at all?"

Hermione raised her head just enough to shake it before returning to her face-plant. "I'm so, so sorry!"

"Wait..." Harry mused. "If Pince was instructed to hide every mention of it do you think it would be in..."

"The restricted section!" the three all whispered at the same time.

"Let's get out of here before I'm discovered," Hermione whispered watching Pince make her rounds. "I'm not _actually_ supposed to be out of the tower."

* * *

"When are you and your brothers leaving?" Hermione asked later that night over the chess board in the common room. She _was_ terrible at this game.

"We're not," Ron looked down at the white king he claimed sadly. "Mum and Dad are visiting Charlie in Romania. So we're staying behind."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," she bit her lip. She recognized that unwanted look in his eyes.

"I was going to ask Mum or Dad about Nicholas Flammel and everything," he sighed. "But you can ask your mum when you visit her, right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Should be safe to ask her."

"Oh, it'll be perfectly safe," Hermione scoffed with an eyeroll. "Considering she doesn't exist!"

"Wait..." both said before exchanging an awkward glance.

" _You_ exist..." Ron choked.

 _So you really thought I had a mother?_ "I mean, erm," Hermione blundered. "Yeah, there had to be a woman who gave birth to me, but I haven't the foggiest on who she might be. It's just been me and my Dad as long as I can remember..."

Ron's ear tips turned pink and Harry grimaced, turning his attention to the board.

"If I had a mother in the picture do you think I would have grew up in the school?"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said. "We didn't know."

"You never told us," Ron said.

 _You never asked!_ "It's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm certain you've heard the rumours. I figured you'd put it together from those existing."

"Like we'd believe you were found in a box of free kittens!" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Or that Snape made a love potion and charged the witch the resulting child!" Harry added.

"Or that a pregnant woman promised you in exchange for a single head of lettuce!" Ron laughed.

"I didn't hear that one!" Hermione chuckled. "Who the hell gives their child away for a head of lettuce?"

"What about the one where Snape had an affair with a student?" Harry asked.

"He'd have been sacked had that happened," she rolled her eyes. "And I was one when he started. Though those rumours are normally accompanied with me being a whole year younger than he claims I am."

"How about the one where he transfigured one of Mrs. Norris's kittens?" Ron suggest with a laugh. "Or the one where you were found in a Chinese take-away rubbish bin with a bunch of cat skeletons?"

That last one wasn't just cruel, but incredibly racist. Suddenly, Quirrell's kitten comment seemed a whole lot worse. Hermione's stomach churned, she didn't hear that one before either.

"I think there's one where he grew you out of a vat," Harry mused. "And one where he found you in a shipwreck."

"What about the one where Snape dosed a woman with a love potion for years and she abandoned him the minute she came to!" Ron laughed again.

 _It wasn't just him she abandoned!_ Hermione wanted to cry. But she didn't even know if that one was true. If it was at all true than the dream version of her mother was accurate in one respect. She wanted nothing to do with Hermione. The boys riddled off a few more ridiculous rumours they've heard ranging from fairy-tale bullshit to international crimes having a good hardy laugh at her father without caring that she was the humanbeing on the other end of those rumours. What did it matter, they had their laugh at the teacher who made them miserable. Hermione didn't know if she wanted to cry or vomit.

"Hermione?" Harry looked at her with that damn pitying look. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she choked covering her face with her hair. _Don't let them see you cry. Weakness will be attacked._

"You sure?" Ron asked. "You look terrible."

"I'm aware I'm ugly, Ron," Hermione tried to snap, but it sounded more like a squeak.

"That's not what I meant," Ron groaned. "You look sick. Pale."

"Just a headache," she lied. "I'm going to bed."

* * *

"Are you absolutely certain that's where you want it, headmaster?" Severus asked. "We can place it as soon as we acquire it. I don't like the idea of the _Mirror of Erised_ just sitting where anyone can get to it."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard and peered at him over his half-moon glasses with a knowing smile. _Damn that knowing smile. Let me in on the plan...I'm not a child._

"Severus," he chuckled. "I understand your concerns, but there are parts of the plan only I can be privy to. I'm certain you understand why?"

He did. Everyone protecting the stone only had pieces of the plans. Originally everyone was only supposed to know their task, but changes were made to accommodate placement and they were divided into teams of four, subdivided into two. He wondered why _he_ was the one Dumbledore was trusting with the mirror, but he remained quiet while honour and annoyance warred within him. The Flammels were fine with destroying the stone. They should just destroy it!

"I want it on the same floor as the library," Dumbledore explained. "You'll place it tonight, and keep watch tomorrow night for Quirrell."

"Keep watch for Quirrell..." he said slowly. "Does that mean you believe me? Headmaster, if this is all an elaborate trap can't we do something less risky? If you believe he attacked Potter can't you just sack him?"

"Keep your enemies closer, Severus," Dumbledore stroked his beard again. "He'll do less damage under our watch than out in the world."

"THE MAN THREATENED MY DAUGHTER!" Severus roared forgetting himself for a moment.

"Hermione is under my watch as well, I assure you," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No harm will come to her."

"Oh, the same way no harm will come to Potter?" he scoffed. "Because we know how well that worked out."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. "I promise nothing will happen to Hermione."

"If anything happens to her..."

"Nothing will happen," he repeated.

"I should have transferred her to another school..." he said. "But it's too late now. If you promise me she'll be safe, I'll trust you."

That night he was tasked with placing the mirror in a classroom across from the library and he kept doing perimeter checks as he positioned the mirror. The dark corridors were dead quiet, his shoes echoing off the stone floor and he suddenly appreciated Hermione's instinct to go barefoot all those mornings. Had it not been so bloody cold he might have done the same. At least he didn't have light from his wand to bounce off the walls. Needing to levitate the massive mirror to move it, Severus opted for an elixir of owl-sight to see.

Exhausted but undisturbed, he entered the empty classroom and set the mirror against a wall. There. All he had to do now was cover the bloody thing and go to bed. He grabbed the white linen cloth and approached the mirror, ignoring the burning curiosity. _I don't want to know! If it's Lily and not my child...what would that mean? I can't...but maybe I should know..._

The hesitation cost him his ignorance. There in the mirror, he saw himself, tall, thin, pale and greasy hair with his large hooked nose, apparently he had no desire to be attractive, but on either side of him stood the two most important people in his life. A healthier, younger version of Hermione hung from his hand, beaming, her large brown eyes staring up at him with complete trust. On his other side, Lily rested her head on his shoulder, clinging to his arm, her bright green eyes sparkling with contentment. Both were so happy, and both trusted him completely.

Mirror Lily bent to pick up Mirror Hermione and the two nuzzled into his chest, smiling. Lily would have been a great mother...to Potter. This was fake, this was fake, this was fake! Hermione was a hell of a lot older than four, and Lily was dead. Before Lily died she wanted nothing to do with him, which he himself was at fault for! The happy little lie in the mirror was just that! A lie!

Severus tore his eyes from the mirror and threw the cover over it before he could be drawn in again.

* * *

"Dad?" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry, love," he said finding his keys. "What was that?"

"I was just asking if you were okay," Hermione took his hand. "Are you?"

"You worry too much, little girl," he sighed.

With a sigh the three of them entered the run-down house on Spinner's End and Severus felt a knot form in his stomach.

"I should just leave the damn thing to rot!" he grumbled.

"It's one month, Sev," Lily rolled her eyes and smiled. "We'll fix the place up and sell it. When you and our little gambler run off to school, if we still haven't sold it, I'll continue trying."

Every detail of his childhood home was identical as it was the day he left. Ramshackle bookshelves, a small kitchen table his mother cowered under during his father's rages, dents in the plaster, and smoke stained walls. He swore he still smelt the booze in the livingroom and kitchen. He didn't want to stay for a second let alone a month.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked noting she was inexplicably gone.

He turned back to meet Lily and she too had vanished.

"Lily?" he called. "Hermione?"

He lingered at the foot of the stairs as a thousand memories flooded his mind. Not a single one of them pleasant. _It's just a damn_ house. He climbed the stairs still skipping the third step that always creaked announcing his presence, as if either of them were still alive to cause trouble. _Find your family and leave...let the damn house burn._

He paused again at muffled voices at the door to his childhood room. That was the last place he wanted to go. He took a deep breath and drew his wand, resting a shaking hand on the doorknob. He hadn't been back since he was seventeen. Not since... _Fuck it!_ he opened the door and nearly dropped his wand.

"So he finally makes his appearance!" Eileen rolled her eyes, putting out her cigarette.

None of this was real. It suddenly came back to him, Lily never married him, she married Potter, had a son and was murdered...because of him. The marriage, return to his house, his mother standing there. This was all fake! Not that it stopped the blood from freezing in his veins as he watched his mother run her hand through Hermione's hair.

"Hermione," he breathed. "Come here. Now."

"Calm down, Severus," she snapped. "I have every right to meet my own granddaughter! He's _always_ been a complete ingrate. He was such an insufferable child!"

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"After everything I've gone through, too!" Eileen collapsed dramatically on the bed. "Tell me, darling boy, why does this girl have two middle names and neither are mine? Do I mean so little to you?"

Severus opened his mouth to speak but his mother's icy voice continued before he could.

"Of course I do!" she cried. "That's why you abandoned me with your monster of a father! That's why you named your _stolen_ child after your school crush and what she said _she_ ' _d_ name her daughter if she had one!" she laughed bitterly pulling Hermione into her lap. "Can you believe it, darling? After everything I've done for your miserable father, he abandons me and does everything he can to forget I ever existed!"

"You didn't _really_ abandon her," Hermione choked. "Did you?"

"Are you going to lie to her again?" she challenged before turning back to Hermione. "This was your father's bedroom," she pointed to the window. "That's the window he snuck out of when when your idiot grandfather had his little tantrums. A very stupid little boy, indeed. And a coward!" she pointed again, this time to a closet. "Oh, and there's the closet I died in after your pathetic father left me all alone. No cheeky response, Severus? Perhaps it's because you know I'm right."

"Oh my, Sev," Lily said appearing behind his mother, her green eyes aflame and face contorted in anger. "Is there a single person you've claimed to love that you didn't destroy?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"It's your father's fault I'm dead," Lily's angry eyes didn't leave him.

"Join the club, girl," Eileen said bitterly.

"I did nothing to you!" he snapped. "I was a child!"

"You _left_!" she seethed. "But then again, you never could think about the consequences of your actions for even a second, could you?"

"I might be alive if he could," Lily scoffed. "I wonder what he'll do to you."

"He's already destroyed me," Hermione sighed. "Or are you still telling yourself it was a couple I never met?"

* * *

"I'm surprised the Weasley twins haven't started a gambling ring with you," her father smiled ruffling her hair.

 _Pretend this is normal,_ Hermione told herself. _Christmas with your father. Your father who tried to kill your best friend and erased your memory. Perfectly normal!_ "Yeah," she shrugged. "I turned down the offer when I noticed Archimedes tailing me. Maybe next year."

"And that's another four years before retiring the nanny-owl," he said gathering the cards. "So you survived first-term. How do you feel?"

 _Like I'm going to die._ "Alright, just hoping 'survive' isn't the word we use next term," she forced a laugh. _Act natural._

"You seem ill-at-ease," he noted raising his eyebrow.

How stupid was it that Hermione wanted to tell him everything? That she wanted to turn to him for comfort and advice when _he_ was the problem? Not that his particular brand of comfort or advice was particularly useful!

"Just tired," she shrugged again. "We were trying this Japanese game Hiro told me about and by time we got the rules straight and we got through a round we noticed the sun was coming up. Apparently I'm not the only obsessive one. You don't look like you've gotten much sleep yourself?"

That was true, his black eyes were once again ringed and his face had even less colour than usual. Thin, disheveled and confused. _Who does that remind you of? We're both losing sleep over this._

"First Christmas Eve alone," he said, she didn't think she believed him. "It was strange. Quiet though, that was nice."

"Am I so loud?" she asked.

"You talk to the owl, like he's a person," he smirked. "Tell me, should I be worried?"

"I think he's on to us, Archimedes!" Hermione dramatically whispered.

"So the answer is yes?"

"In my defence, are you ever _not_ worried?"

"Sorry, love," he rested his hand on her head again. "The instant we become parents that's all we're capable of."

"I had no idea all parents were so paranoid," Hermione mused.

"Cautious," he corrected.

A silence passed between them and Hermione bit her nails trying to think of things to do or say. Curiosity burned at her mind and she wished desperately she could ask him about Flammel, or the stone, or why he tried to kill Harry...She bit her lip to avoid muttering to herself. Maybe if she found out who let the troll in, maybe she could clear him somehow...

"Everything alright, love?"

"Did anyone ever find out how the troll got in?" she asked. "It's odd isn't it? That a troll just happens to get in the year you lot hid something valuable on the third floor?"

"Hermione," her father warned.

"Right," Hermione bit her lip nervously, "Sorry!"

"I can't say I'm not surprised," he sighed placing a hand on her head. "Curiosity has always been a weakness of yours."

"I thought it was pity," Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Hermione!"

She bit her lip again and fixed her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap. She was supposed to act normal, but she had no clue how to do that. This was the eleventh Christmas she spent with her father, yet she forgot exactly how she acted with him before…He was her father. She trusted him, at least she trusted him sometimes, and he erased her memory then tried to kill her best friend. She didn't even know what normal was anymore.

 _Please_ , she begged of every higher power she'd ever read of, _please let me be wrong_. But she didn't believe that anymore. She could pretend she was friends with Pansy, she could pretend she wasn't hurt by her friends' and classmates' comments, but she couldn't pretend she was at all at ease with her father. She wondered if she ever could…

"You've been living inside that little head of yours for weeks now," he cupped her face and lifted it so she couldn't avoid eye-contact. Since she was small she couldn't stand those black eyes staring into hers with that familiar mixture of anger, concern and pity. "Have you spent the last two months on this? I suppose you think Potter's broomstick mishap is involved as well?"

Hermione wished she could avert her gaze, but instead all she could do was dig her nails harder into the back of her hands and steady her breath.

"I see," he sighed. "Just what do you imagine an eleven-year-old girl can figure out that a group of adults can't?"

"Erm," she began and bit her lip. _Idiot! I shouldn't have said a damn thing! He's probably going to erase my memory again!_

"Hermione," he moved his arm around her shoulder. "Nothing is going to happen. Whatever you're concerned about the other professors and I have this handled. And I do believe there are more appropriate matters for you to attend to," he mused and Hermione braced for the subject change, almost grateful for it. "How is the subject _I_ teach _your_ worst subject?"

"I've gotten nearly perfect scores on everything," Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't have a single score under 98% in any of my classes. Save that 95% from you."

"Unlike the other professors," he said. "I'm not impressed that you're literate and happen to know where the library is located. I know you can do better."

Hermione swore in Elvish under her breath. _What is_ wrong _with you? Why is this bothering you? Your father tried to kill your best friend._

"Language!" he snapped.

"Elvish," she shrugged.

"That was cute when you were four, but I expect you know better now."

"You have no clue if I was swearing or not," Hermione sighed. "You assumed because I was speaking a language you don't. For example, _yare yare_ isn't taboo in Japanese. It's just a phrase of exasperation."

"And the phrase you used now?"

"You know, Elvish is a _very_ context specific language," she gave a nervous laugh.

She never did get proof of his innocence, but she was able to pretend things were fine for the rest of the day. To her relief, he didn't modify her memory, perhaps because she didn't implicate him, or because she was willing to pretend she never brought it up. She didn't know, but he seemed as distracted as she was as they broke into Twenty Questions and cards again. Did he suspect she was on to him? Maybe she should just have been happy to have no further mention of jinxed broomsticks or trolls.

"It's getting late," her father mentioned checking his watch. "Let's get you back to your dormitory, eh?"

 _I can walk myself..._ but instead she nodded with a smile "Ready when you are."

That night Harry showed told Hermione under his breath about his invisibility cloak ("Don't let Fred and George know!" Hermione and Ron teased.) and Hermione wondered about how his father got ahold of one and who would have kept it on Harry's father's behalf or why they were giving it up now. Harry and Ron both hadn't any answers to these questions. They joined the other Weasleys for a game of Exploding Snap before bed, Hermione purposefully losing a few rounds at the beginning to demolish them later on.

"Is this payback for chess?" Ron asked.

"Payback? Me?" Hermione asked innocently. "I'm a nightmare, Ron, not a vindictive monster!"

"How long are you going to torment me for that?"

"Endlessly," Hermione smirked.

The five of them broke into laughter and Hermione broke into a yawn, stretching. She excused herself to the girls' dormitory and wrote the day's events in precise detail in her journal, she was not going to forget a damn thing. Then she took out a small vile she kept under her bed. Precisely one dose of elixir of owl-sight. Lumos could be found, light bouncing off the walls, a lamp would be stupid. If she was going to break into the library, this was what she needed. She still had to be careful, or rigging her fathers pairs so she and Pansy would be assigned the owl-sight elixir would have all been for naught. Though after that last disastrous class she wish she rigged all the pairs...

At midnight Hermione drank the elixir and crept barefoot to the library. She dodged Filch a couple times, and managed to find her way to the entrance without incident. She melted into the shadows, shrinking along the walls and bookshelves until she reached the Restricted Section.

"Alohamora," she whispered, jealous of the ability to cast silently.

She snuck in and made her way through the towering stacks with her colourless but amplified sights set on Artifacts, Alchemy and Famed Wizards. She started with dark artifacts. She hadn't one mention of the stone or Flammel after combing skimming through the table of contents and footnotes of twenty books. She had however come across mention of something called horcruxes and her stomach churned. Who would split their soul...

She shuddered and placed the books back as she turned to alchemy. It was a far cry, but some artifacts were either made via alchemy or were desired because of alchemy. She scanned the spines and spotted a promising book _Alchemical Artifacts: Use and Creation._ She stood on frozen tip-toes to pull it from a shelf when a scream shattered the silence.

Hermione froze. Who screamed, who else was in here with her? _Move, Hermione! You're needed! Go!_ But she had to force her feet to move. Once she built momentum she found the ability to fly in the direction of the scream and glass shattering.

She found at her feet a dropped book and shattered lamp, but no one accompanying it. She drew her wand and spun around looking for the culprit, ready to defend herself when a hand grabbed her wand arm and another clapped over her hand. Hermione's heart pounded as she found herself being dragged behind a bookshelf and underneath a strange veil.

"Shh!" a voice hissed.

Hermione struggled to free herself but only achieved facing the green bespectacled eyes of her captor.

Harry moved his hand from her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips. Hermione nodded and the two of them crept back.

"Professor?" they heard Filch's voice. "You asked me to come straight to you if anyone was milling about at night?"

Hermione's heart returned to it's horrified thudding as she heard her father's voice reply. "The library? They can't have gone far."

The two sped into an empty classroom and waited for the footsteps to pass. Hermione no longer held any suspicion for the invisibility cloak. She couldn't tell if she was lucky or unlucky for Harry to have been there. But for now, she was just happy she wasn't going to spend another eleven years locked in a room "for her own protection".

"What's that?" Harry asked pointing at the gold-framed mirror in the centre of the mirror.

Hermione examined the words on the frame. _Bloody anagrams._ It read _The Mirror of Erised_ and she couldn't be certain, but she thought the text below it in scrambled letters read _be careful what you wish for_. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and gooseflesh rose on her arms. "Harry, don't!" she hissed trying to hold him back.

It was too late. Harry had lifted the protective cover of the invisibility cloak from them and stood at the mirror. Leaning in close he examined it, she wasn't sure, but she thought his eyes glistened and his face paled. A weak smile broke on his face, and he touched his shoulder as if touching another's hand.

"It's not real," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione," he said with a broken voice. "I-it's my parents."

"Harry, I don't think..."

Hermione bit her lip. How could she drag him from his dead parents? But she had too. She threatened to leave without him. Eventually, Harry did break away and the two made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

The next night Hermione tried to stop Ron and Harry from making their journey to the cursed mirror. When she failed to stop them she followed them and she wished she didn't. She shushed Ron who moaned about his cold feet, despite the slippers she'd told the boys to ditch, and under the light of her wand she could see the blue beds of her toenails. She, in turn, was hushed by her insistence that this was a bad idea and they were faced with the gold mirror glinting in the moonlight, beckoning each of them forward.

"I don't see anything but you, Harry," Ron said, sharing a concerned look with Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione spoke. "I, erm, look, it's, erm, hard to hear, but please, it's an illusion."

"Maybe if you two stand where I am?" Harry suggested pulling Ron to his spot.

"Ron, Harry, _please!"_ Hermione bit her lip.

"That's my-"

"I don't see your parents, Harry," Ron said.

Maybe it wouldn't curse him?

"I see myself, but different!" Ron explained his vision in great detail with excitement. To Harry's dismay he did not see either of their families, but instead, he saw himself as Head Boy, holding the quidditch cup. A desire Hermione did not expect him to have, Ron beamed at his imagined self before turning to Harry. "D'you think it shows the future?"

Hermione opened her mouth but Harry spoke first. "How could it? My parents are dead..."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. "It's-"

"What do you think you'd see?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, come on then!" Ron agreed.

"No, I don't want to know!" Hermione backed up, but both boys had her arms and all but dragged her before the mirror.

She shut her eyes. "Whatever I see won't be real. I can't..."

Hermione opened her eyes. She didn't know what she expected, but she choked on a lump in her throat as she beheld her vision. _It's not real..._

The mirror rippled, as if it couldn't decide what to show her at first, split second images of a bushy-haired black woman and a short pale Asian man with eyes like hers were followed by an image of her father approving of something she'd done, then by her friends, including Hiro and Kaori, around her. It decided to settle on all of them, gathered around her, happy that she was in their lives. She had no idea what it was like to have someone be proud of her, or if anyone wanted her, but she suspected she felt that now. She was wanted...how pathetic of a desire was that? And did it take so long for the boys to see their images?

"We need to go," she choked.

"Come on," Ron groaned. "Tell us what you see!"

"Friends who don't drag me in front of cursed objects!" she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Let's get out of here."


	12. Hagrid's Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and Hermione figure out that Hagrid has been keeping a dragon and try to get him to Ron's brother Charlie without anyone noticing. Snape volunteers for an extra-circular raising suspicions.

The rest of the holiday progressed smoothly. Harry had finally been torn from the Mirror of Erised (backwards for desire! How could Hermione have been so stupid not to realise it?!) by Dumbledore himself, cautioning that he could waste away before it if he didn't leave. Apparently, the mirror only shifts and ebbs if the viewer doesn't know what they truly desire. So, Hermione spent the rest of the holiday wondering why they had such a dangerous artifact in the school and if she was broken. Who didn't know what they desired? Though their was a line of commonality. All she really craved was to be wanted. To be needed.

Hermione put it from her mind as she began with classes and her weekly exchanges with Hiro. The letters quickly returned to the only thing she could rely on as Harry and Ron continued to suspect her father, and her father's antagonism of the two hit an all time high, as if he knew they were on to him. The only thing outside of Hiro's letters that helped her pull through was her father lifting her detentions for the term on the condition she stay in the tower outside of class, meals and _group_ (he really emphasized that bit) studying in the library.

"Start o' term and already hittin' the books?" Hagrid smiled with a massive arm clutching a book.

"Yeah," Harry jerked a thumb in Hermione's direction. "Rapunzel ("Bless you!" Ron said) here can't leave the tower unless it's here."

"Harry!" Hermione seethed. "We want to be prepared for exams, Hagrid. What're you up to?"

"Jus' a little bit o' readin' is all," Hagrid said, flummoxed. "You lot aren' still on tha' Flammel nonsense, are yea?"

Hermione brandished the batter copy of _Goblin Rebellions of the Thirteenth Century._ "Not exactly secrets of powerful objects or obscure wizards."

Harry shot a glance at Hermione that screamed 'he might help'. Did he not know that grown-ups were useless? Hermione longed for the days she could be so naive as to trust an adult.

"He was definitely hiding something," Harry closed his book.

"Let's look around and see what he was reading," Ron said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had very different methods of searching for the book. Ron plucked books seemingly at Random from where Hagrid emerged, Hermione searched by likely topics and Harry met them somewhere in the middle. Plucking books from the section, combing the table of contents and reshelving before he pointed out exactly what all these books had in common.

"Caring for and breeding dragons," Harry whispered.

Hermione slapped her forehead. "Hagrid always loved dragons!"

"Relax, Hermione," Ron assured her. "It's illegal in Britain to keep dragons. And most are highly endangered."

"Wait," Harry whispered. "There are _wild_ dragons in Britain?"

"Yeah, there's wild dragons everywhere." Ron said. "Charlie rescues and re-wilds dragons in Romania."

The three went to see Hagrid, Hermione glancing around for an owl or her father, happy that they seemed to both be better occupied, allowing Hermione to disappear between both boys.

"Hagrid!" Harry said when Hagrid opened the door, sending a wave of heat over them.

"Hermione isn' supposed to be here," Hagrid grumbled shooing them off. "You lookin' to get pulled ou'?"

"Hasn't stopped you before," Ron said. "And we know-"

"We know what you're up to," Harry whispered. "A dragon?"

Hagrid glanced around and ushered them into the broiling hut, sitting each of them down, Hermione perched herself on a barrell far from the window and close to the lit fireplace.

"That's a Norwegian Ridgeback egg!" Ron gasped before Hermione could at the sight of the egg sitting in the pot.

Hagrid explained everything, what he was reading, how he had to hatch the egg and why the hut was so damn hot. His little wooden hut had to be kept so hot, Hermione felt like he would set his home ablaze. Then she thought about what Ron said. Norwegian Ridgebacks were incredibly endangered. Keeping dragons were illegal...

"How'd you get the egg?" Hermione asked. "It's not like you could go to a _legal_ menagerie..."

"Erm," Hagrid toyed with his black bushy beard, averting his eyes.

" _Hagrid!_ " Hermione gasped. "What did you _do_?"

"Your father will have my head if he finds out I-"

"Hagrid," Ron cut him off. "If you don't tell us we'll find out. And you know how good we are at it."

A silence joined the smoke in choking the normally cozy hut's atmosphere, the three of them casting interrogating gazes on Hagrid, whose black eyes glistened either from smoke irritation or shame. Hermione came to his side and held his hand, looking into his eyes with an encouraging smile. "Your secret's safe with us. _Please_ tell us?" She ignored the smoke as she put on her best 'baby unicorn' face.

"I won him in a match o'er at the Hogshead," he whispered. "Promise you won' tell anyone?"

* * *

"I'll do it," Severus volunteered to slack jaws in the staffroom.

"You _hate_ Quidditch," McGonagall observed.

"And you said I have to get involved in extracurriculars," he reminded the stone-faced woman. "I'd sooner referee one of four matches in the year than waste my time with a club that no one will join."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," Professor Sprout said. "I'm sure _someone_ would join..."

"If you don't want me to do it," Severus started leaning back in his chair. "We could always dispense with the mandate that teachers involve themselves with such nonsense. A number of teachers don't involve themselves with it as is."

His coworkers exchanged glances with each other, some with their lips pressed into hard frustrated lines, others wondering why they'd been involved in heading clubs to begin with. Some frusterated that the rules didn't apply equally to all. Quirrell was exempt, being his first year back in a long time, Binns headed a history club attended by no one, Trelawney made no effort and they all approved of anything that kept her from the students, and Severus had been exempt till Hermione started school. He was supposed to have involved himself long before now, but no one (save McGonagall) cared enough to remind him.

"Do we have a literature club?" Flitwick mused.

"After years of turning down proposals of _Son of Hermes_ clubs we should not open that door," Severus muttered to agreements from the other teachers. It was not often he had been met with nods from his colleagues.

"If you're looking to cost Gryffindor their chance at the cup, Severus," McGonagall warned.

"Minerva," Dumbledore sighed peering knowingly over his glasses at him. "I'm certain Severus is only trying to meet his requirements. And wouldn't dream of purposefully rigging a match his daughter's house is in."

"Indeed," he sighed lazily. "If I wanted to give her another reason not to talk to me, I would be much more creative."

So volunteering to referee the next match didn't make him popular, but at least he could be certain Quirrell wouldn't try that stunt again. And if he did, Severus's counterspell would be much more effective as he was closer.

* * *

"It's hatching!" Hermione squealed. "Oh, but we have herbology! Ugh!"

"Hermione," Ron said. "When will we ever see a _dragon_ hatch? We can do herbology any old time!"

"But what if we fall behind?" Hermione asked with a stomach churn. _He is right though..._

"We'll do the readings on our own," Harry assured her. "This is going to be fantastic!"

"Attendance..." Hermione bit her lip. "We've got to come up with some reason all three of us were gone...or my father..."

The three of them mused and before reaching a decision on how they could both be marked on the register and see the dragon hatched. All they had to do was adhere to their parts.

"Professor Sprout!" Hermione raised her hand interrupting her call of the register.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm not feeling well, might I be excused?" she asked feigning weakness.

"Of course, dear," she nodded. "I'm sure your friends can help you catch up when they visit you after.. You can walk yourself right?"

"I don't know..." Hermione moaned. _Nuclear option_. She placed her head in one of the clay pots and made herself sick.

"Oh, oh dear," Sprout rushed to her side. "Come along..."

"Erm, Professor?" Harry said wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Ron and I can take her. No need to stop the class, right?"

Hermione was certain if she lifted her head she would catch seventeen pairs of eyes glaring daggers at him.

"Both of you boys?" she asked.

"We'll get her looked after!" Ron said slinging one of her arms over his shoulders. "We'll see Neville for notes. Cheers!"

"I can't believe that worked!" Ron hissed in her ear as they got to Hagrid's hut.

"It's us!" Harry whispered and the three of them were ushered back into the sweltering hut.

Harry, Ron and Hermione craned their necks over the kettle to watch the fractures form in the stony egg. A tiny black claw picked its way out of the shell and an enormous lamp yellow eye stared at them. Hagrid cooed and urged the little dragon out. A black, scaly form slinked out of the egg and curled up cat like on the coals, staring at Hagrid to a "He knows his mummy!"

"Brilliant!" Harry and Ron gasped.

"He's adorable!" Hermione squeaked.

"Are you and Hagrid both mental?" Ron asked. "It's a firebreathing _dragon._ "

"Norbert is a jus' a baby, Ron."

"But Ron is right..." Hermione sighed, her smile fading. "This isn't the best place for a growing dragon."

"Norbert is too young to go anywhere else. Look at him!"

He did look helpless, and Hermione was torn between knowing this was a terrible idea and wanting to hold him.

Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to convince Hagrid that he had to do what was best for him, but Hagrid being Hagird insisted that he loved the little dragon and would do anything for him, and sending him away was not for the best. Hermione wanted to make some comments on his feelings didn't matter if Norman didn't have room to breathe, but it wasn't Hagrid who needed to hear that.

Giving up, the three turned to leave spotting a pale, pointed face peering at them through the window.

" _Get out of here!"_ Hagrid shouted at Malfoy and left Harry, Ron and Hermione wondering how they could fix it.

"Charlie?" Harry mused casting a meaningful look.

"Have you gone mad too, I'm Ron."

"No!" Harry said. "Charlie can take him, right?"

"All we have to do is keep Malfoy's mouth shut!"

* * *

"It's too late to write Charlie!" Ron huffed from the hospital bed.

Hermione's eyes fixed on Ron's green hand seeping puss and she hoped that the 'no questions' clause Pomfrey offered her father extended to him. It was obvious it was a dragon bite. Even worse, they now knew the reason for Malfoy's silence, and it was _not_ the uneasy cease fire Hermione enjoyed with the Slytherins. He wanted to catch them in the act.

"I can't believe I so stupid as to leave the letter in that book!" he moaned.

"Think about it," Hermione said, not particularly believing it herself. "Malfoy will need proof, and he would have to tip off professors off in a way that doesn't suggest he kept it too himself."

"I'm not eaves dropping!" an exasperated voice announced behind her. "So you can save your breath, Potter."

Hermione turned to see none other than Pansy Parkinson clasping a book to her chest with one arm, her other hand grasping her arm. "You promised you would meet me at the library!"

"Right, sorry!" she turned back to Harry and Ron. "Sorry, guys, I-erm-I'll meet you in our common room, Harry. Feel better, Ron."

A quick pace to the library and Hermione and Pansy were pouring over books while whispering back and forth. Pansy's brown eyes combed over the library before leaning in.

"There have been no notices on our common room bulletin," she whispered. "But Professor Snape has agreed to referee the next Quidditch match. I haven't seen or heard anything else strange though."

Pansy wasn't the best eyes, but she was the only eyes Hermione could get in the Slytherin common room. Not that she thought her father would give away his scheme to his house, but she _did_ think they were uniquely in position to see anything out of character. Like agreeing to referee a Quidditch match...Did he want to ensure he'd be able to kill Harry? He _hated_ the sport. What other reason could he possibly have? Hermione had to tell Harry not to play. But how?

"My father _hates_ Quidditch," she whispered back. "Did you find out why?"

Pansy shook her head. "All the upper years say so too. That weird boy O'Malley says it might because teachers have to take part in clubs and athletics."

"I see," Hermione mused before she dug two rolls of parchment out of her bag. "As promised."

"You have my hand writing down to a tee!" she said in amazement. "That McGonagall will die of shock when she reads this!"

Hermione bit her tongue, telling her that she would be fine if she just paid attention would do no good. She needed Pansy as eyes around the castle. Her father would never suspect her, and she turned no heads, where Harry, Ron, Fred and George would.

"I've also been tailing Quivering Quirrell," Pansy sighed bored. "You were right, he likes to spend _a lot_ of time around the third-floor corridor. Keeps looking around, but I'm invisible to him. Professor Snape keeps close too, I don't know why. I'm sure you understand why I take off when he makes an appearance."

She did. Pansy was invisible to Quirrell, but not to the head of her house, and she would never keep out of sight.

"Though I'll give you this next piece of information for free since we're such good friends," both girls rolled their eyes. "Draco wants to alert McGonagall tonight about your little escapade. He's been bragging about how he'll finally get Potter expelled. Stay in the dormitory tonight. I think he might be able to."

"Tit for tat," Hermione whispered leaning in landing on a lie quickly. "We're not going anywhere. The whole dragon thing is just to get Malfoy in trouble. He won't be expelled, but detention and embarrassment will suffice. I got the idea from my favourite book."

"What book?"

"You know the scene in _Son of Hermes_ where..." Hermione described the scene in detail and said that she'd forged Ron's letter from Charlie and that Ron was a willing sacrifice, applying a poison she'd swiped from her father's stores on his hand. All to get Malfoy in trouble. She was impressed with how her own story came together.

"Oh, Hermione," Pansy gave a surprising giggle. "I can't believe you! Naturally, I will have to tell Draco though."

"Poor Ron sacrificed so much," Hermione pouted.

"Oh, I'm leaving that bit out!" Pansy giggled again. "I won't be getting any more homework done if Professor Snape kills you!"

* * *

If they had more time, Hermione might have been able to work with Pansy's warning if she'd gotten it earlier. But at least they knew to keep their eyes out while they made their way to the astrology tower with a noisy crate between them. Out of habit Hermione ditched her shoes, but that didn't matter with Norbert ripping the head off his teddy and crying. _I know there's a silencing spell! Why can't I remember it?_ The sleeping draught she dosed him with did nothing and she cursed their luck.

Suddenly there was a silence from the crate and Harry exchanged a grateful look with Hermione. Maybe it just took longer to act, maybe he tired himself out by raising hell, Hermione didn't care. The weight between them became much easier to manage and they were more assured as they crept around the corridors that they'd be safe.

"What did you think you were doing?!"

Hermione's heart paused in her chest, and the blanched look on Harry's face suggested his did the same. They were hidden under an invisibility cloak, but McGonagall stood before them, nostrils flaring and beady eyes glaring in a hairnet and dressing gown. But it wasn't them she was looking at. It seemed Pansy either didn't tell Malfoy or didn't convince him. It was Malfoy she snapped at. Not them.

She clung to his ear chastising him and dismissing out of hand his claims that Harry and Hermione were skulking around the school with a dragon. Hermione's heart nearly leapt for joy until McGonagall hissed: "We shall see Professor Snape about this!"

If he were up, they'd have to be extra careful. Hermione could hear his threats to pull her out, or his venom 'I asked you to keep yourself safe, but I'm just your father, what the hell do I know?'. Mounting dread replaced the glee as they climbed the tower. Until she saw Charlie and two others standing with him.

Charlie Weasley stood tall with broad shoulders and signature Weasley flaming red-hair, almost intentionally messy, blue eyes and freckles splashed over his face. He seemed very well put-together and regarded them with little shock when they threw off the cloak.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione," he nodded with a smile.

"We have him all set for travel," Harry said. "Thank you so much for this."

"No problem," he said. "I always did like Hagrid. I promise he'll be in good hands. You can tell him we'll be writing him so he doesn't have to worry."

Hermione grabbed the cloak and they covered themselves with it, creeping down the stairs with baited breath. Harry whispered to her a couple times, but instead, he saw her shaking hand holding out light with her wand. He picked up on the severity of the situation and the two made their way down in silence. Hermione turned her thoughts to getting Harry out of the match. She was so distracted that she bumped into a calf high furry creature tripping over it. She tried to catch herself, but fell to the ground at a pair of brown shoes underneath a lamp and a sneer.

Harry did something both very brave and stupid, throwing the cloak off and standing next to her, hiding the cloak behind him. Hermione stared at him in horror. _Why sacrifice yourself? What are you planning? I'm not...worth it._

"We are in trouble, aren't we?" Filch sneered.

The two gulped facing each other and Hermione bit her lip as they followed Filch to McGonagall's office. McGonagall stood behind her desk, nostrils flaring opposite a shrinking Neville.

"Neville?" Hermione squeaked. "What-"

"He _also_ fell for your cock and bull story about a dragon!" McGonagall spat. "What were you doing? 3AM in the astrology tower? Was it worth it?"

Hermione stared at her barefeet recalling the story she gave Pansy. McGonagall guessed it though, making Hermione's story fit if Pansy were ever asked. Hermione simply nodded, Harry's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he stared at her.

"I assume this was your idea, Potter?"

"It was mine!" Hermione squeaked. "I got the idea from a book I read. I, erm..." she turned to Neville. "I never meant for you to hear it. I'm so sorry!"

"I expected _you_ to have more sense than this!" McGonagall huffed before turning to address them all. "You three will be joining Malfoy in detention and I'll be deducting fifty points from each of you for your foolishness. And I _will_ be speaking to your father about this!"

All because she couldn't be bothered looking where she was going! How could she have _been_ so stupid?! Hermione would be pulled out of classes for tripping over a damn cat! Her stomach churned and she dug her nails into her hands trying not to think about it. Tripping over Mrs. Norris! The only thing worse would be if they forgot the damn cloak, which Harry never would have! If Harry handled it by himself, she was certain nothing would have happened. This was all her fault.


	13. Meetings in the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione join Neville and Malfoy in detention. Hermione tries to decode a centaur's prophecy in the forest, and begins to spy on her father as her suspicions he might be a Death Eater mount.

She did _what_?!" Severus hissed fixing his eyes on the girl.

"I _never_ would have expected such behaviour from her!" McGonagall poked her black pudding. "I thought she had more sense than that..."

Hermione _did_ have more sense than that. If she wanted to set up Malfoy, she would have stayed behind as to not implicate herself. He turned his gaze to a rather sad looking Hagrid chasing his beans around his plate. If Hagrid truly had a dragon...that would make sense. The foolish girl would have leapt at the chance to help the man, and Potter seemed fond of him as well. Perhaps his anger should be directed at the adult that dragged the little idiots into it. How could he be so irresponsible?

"I shall have a talk with her," he said after McGonagall described the scenario in great detail. "Rest assured this will not happen again."

His eyes landed on Quirrell who fixed his gaze on Hermione and Potter who spoke in hushed voices to each other, both looking over their shoulders at every word. Maybe they were discussing the dragon, which Severus now felt was more real than Hermione had let on. How lucky were those two idiots that they didn't come across Quirrell? Who now seemed more distant and irritable. Were his plans going so awry?

He watched Hermione chase the twins out after admonishing Potter for something and he put his own fork down to meet her. He had to handle this with tact, there was no way he could threaten to pull her out again when this was supposed to be her last offense. He found the tiny girl speaking in hushed voices with the two boys who exchanged a quick glance.

"Do you think it's possible?" Hermione asked.

"We'll see what we can do," one twin said.

"But can you give us any more details?" the other asked.

Hermione shook her head, checked over her shoulder and spotted him standing behind her. She froze on the spot, the colour draining from her face and her eyes growing larger. She turned back to the twins who exchanged confused glances. Perhaps they didn't know which one he had chased down. Likely the twins were brewing some kind of mischief.

"You boys may leave," he sighed. "Whatever you're scheming is low on my list of priorities today."

"Yessir!" they both said before scampering off down the corridor.

"Follow me," he instructed once they were out of earshot.

How many times this year had he summoned Hermione to his office? He lost count, a natural people pleaser, he never had expected her to break so many rules. Yet in her first year she had given even James Potter a run for his money.

"The good news," he shut the door behind them. "Is that I have decided to not to pull you out of classes."

Hermione let out a drawn out breath, making him think she was holding her breath all the way down. "The bad news?"

"I don't believe Professor McGonagall's story," he said examining her scarred hands. "Not with Hagrid moping about the grounds and castle. I imagine he got his hands on a dragon and charged you and Potter with its rescue?"

Hermione choked and her eyes darted around the room before bringing her clasped hands up to her face and digging her nails into the gaps between her fingers, again. Behind her hands he thought she might be biting her lip. _Best not drag it out..._

"I don't expect details from you," he said. "Just tell me if I'm right. And you can put from your mind any legal ramifications. I've no intention of dealing with the burden of proof."

"Hagrid didn't charge us with it," Hermione squeaked in a small voice. "When w- _I_ found out _I_ volunteered to get the dragon to the right place. He was unsure if he wanted to accept it at first. I just didn't want him to get in trouble. You and I both know how poorly he would fair in Azkaban. Hagrid's fragile..."

"I see," he tried to keep his voice even. "Though when you and Potter volunteered to escort a dragon to safety, did it not cross your minds that any number of us would be equally upset at the prospect of Hagrid going to prison and eager to help him? Not to mention more capable than two eleven-year-olds?"

Hermione stared at her feet and he knew the answer to the question. One day, he'd cease to be surprised by the diminishing amount of trust she had in him. For now he put it from his mind and went back to the issue at hand.

"Hagrid should know better, but should this happen again," he thrummed his fingers on his desk. "I'm rather fond of the man, and so is the headmaster. Either one of us would have dealt with the issue at hand, with out putting ourselves at risk the way you two did. Honestly, Hermione, you should have come to me the minute you found out. It's not safe for you to be wandering about the castle at night. There are things you don't...that you _can't_ know."

Hermione's expression went from fearful to surprised to confused. Her posture relaxed and she approached him, but with caution. "I, erm," she averted her gaze and paused after a few steps.

He gave her a moment, recognizing the nervous wringing of her hands. He didn't speak, but instead met her half way placing a hand gently on the top of her head and kneeling at her eye level. He waited and saw that look of trying to find the perfect words.

"What _can_ I know?" she asked softly.

"I'm sorry, love," he sighed. "I can't trust you not to involve yourself if you know."

Something akin to realization crossed Hermione's face and he wondered what it was that made her back away from him. She spoke barely above a whisper, and her voice shook with cold horror.

"How can possibly you know that I would?"

"Hermione," he breathed. _How do I even start...? Fuck it._ "I _raised_ you. I know how eager you are to jump into others' problems. You can't tell me you wouldn't, I've memorized every expression on that little face since you were the size of a k-since you were a baby."

Hermione regarded him with a palpable disappointment, her sad expression speaking volumes. He wasn't lying when he said she was easy to read. And Severus knew he blew his chance to regain a bit of trust. She _did_ know, somehow, and she had given him the chance to admit it. _You should have come clean, you stupid piece of shit._

"No," her quiet voice broke again. "I-I didn't want to believe it..."

His muscles tensed and the lump in his throat returned along with a tightness in his chest. He wished once again he could take it all back. Keeping her on a short leash should have been enough to keep her from getting involved...No, the incident with the dragon never would have happened if that method worked. But neither did explaining it to her...she was determined to get herself killed, what the hell was he supposed to do? _Anything but erase her memory..._

"There were very complicated circumstances, love," he explained.

" _Complicated circumstances?!"_ Hermione cried.

He should have expected a reaction like that, how else could she possibly have taken it? They couldn't go back to pretending the other was ignorant. They'd both tipped their hands, and his search for words failed him. How could this get so out of hand? _She speaks French...you should have sent her to Beaux Batons...she never would have been involved then..._

Looking at his shaking, teary-eyed daughter, he knew that wasn't an option anymore. Erasing her memory again was off the table as well, he _never_ should have done it the first time. There was so much he failed to give her, she was entitled to her own memories. He wanted what was best for her, and he had no idea how to make that happen.

 _For God's sake,_ some part of him thought. _I just wanted to keep her safe...If she could just listen to me...no, no, it wasn't right._ The worst part was that it was all for not, Hermione wasn't any safer for having her memories altered. He thought that if he could just...it didn't matter.

"I _trusted_ you!" she sobbed.

"Oh, Hermione," he cooed reaching out for her.

Hermione backed away from him, repulsed. Sadness, anger and betrayal danced in her large brown eyes, not unlike the way she looked at him when he wiped her memory. He wanted to pick her up and promise her everything would be okay. Not exactly something he could do when _he_ was the problem. And mending relations after modifying your child's memory was not exactly covered in parenting books.

"I don't expect you to understand," he sighed _Stay calm_. "I only wanted to keep you safe. I had tried keeping you within reach, I tried explaining the situation to you, but nothing worked."

"And you thought _playing with my mind_ would work?" she squeaked.

He had no answer for that. All he could do was stare at her and wish she _was_ the small child she seemed to him. Winning her trust back, keeping her safe was all so much easier when he was all she had. He hated himself for that thought. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, his eyes not leaving her as he mentally ran through what he should and shouldn't tell her.

"I know I'm the last person you want to be spending any time with right now," he took in a deep breath. "But I suggest you sit down, love. I'm going to tell you what I can."

* * *

"What he could tell her" was very little. Hermione put together the little bit her father let her in on. There was something being protected by the professors, someone wanted it, and that meant that Hermione was in very real danger. Before he'd modified her memory, he'd told her who it was he suspected, but instead of avoiding them, she'd investigated them. So despite wanting to trust her with the name it seemed she was safer not knowing. He wanted to tell her more, but he couldn't.

Hermione read between the lines. If he knew she was investigating the person, that meant she _came_ to him. She went to him for help and he erased her memory. What was worse, she still loved the traitor. She wished he'd just called her down to scream at her about last night. Why was he so confident Norbert had been real?

 _You should have come to me...ha!_ She wouldn't _ever_ come to him for help again!

"How long do you need them incapacitated?" Fred whispered.

"The whole day," she checked over her shoulder.

"That's a tall order," George mused.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with people studying or chatting. Harry was at Quidditch practice. Ron hadn't been released yet, but Hermione knew her window would close soon. All she had to do was make Harry too sick to play the match and then the assailant (who she still clung to a thread of hope that it wasn't her father) couldn't do anything.

"Couldn't you easily sneak out ingredients for a sleeping draught?"

"My father's far too paranoid for me to get away with it. I see his owl flying around me all the time if I'm out. It's easier this way."

The twins looked at each other with raised eyebrows and turned back to her. "An owl?"

"Mage-bred, more capable of reporting my misdeeds than you'd believe."

"He'd be better off getting a houseelf to spy on you," Fred laughed.

"He did, and her name is Libby," Hermione sighed. "She's quite lovely though."

"Can you at least tell us who you're poisoning?" George asked.

"Poisoning?" Harry asked from behind her.

"Gah!" Hermione spun to see both Harry and Ron.

"Just a sleeping draught," Hermione shrugged. "Nothing for you two to w-"

"Come on!" A newly released Ron sat opposite her, hungry for gossip. "Tell me it's Malfoy!"

"It's Malfoy," she lied.

"Is that really smart, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"You sound like me," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you lot are plotting to lose our house more points," Percy announced scowling at them as he pushed up his glasses. "I will tell Professor McGonagall! Spiking Malfoy's drink with sleeping draught, Hermione? Should I tell your father to keep an eye on his stores?"

 _Damn it, Percy!_ Hermione thought. She thought he liked her, apparently not! How was she supposed to save Harry's life if she couldn't get past Percy Weasley of all people? And did he have to announce it so damn loud? He had the entire common room staring at them.

"Haven't you done enough damage?" Lavender cried. "I wish Snape would stop threatening and pull you out of classes already!"

"Let's go, Lavender," Pavarti rolled her eyes. "I thought you were better than _that_ , Hermione!"

The rest of the group joined Percy's threats and Hermione tuned them out wondering if Harry falling unconscious at breakfast would give her away when they thought she was after Malfoy...she wondered if she could get Libby to get the ingredients and do the deed...no one would suspect...no, she wasn't asking that...she'd have to find another way.

Hostility turned to laughter as poor Neville rabbit-hopped into the common room. Tears sprang to his blue eyes and round face flushed pink as he watched the entire room fall over laughing...including Harry, Ron, Percy, Fred and George, who _knew_ better! She rolled her eyes and unlocked his limbs casting a toxic glance over the four boys before she addressing Neville. "Are you alright, Neville?"

Neville related the story of how Malfoy had ambushed him outside the library and to Ron's (all of sudden sympathetic) advice to stand up for himself, Neville whimpered that he already knew he wasn't brave enough to be put in Gryffindor long before Malfoy accused him of such.

 _You're not half the coward I am..._ Hermione thought back to every moment she froze when action had to be taken. She could read through every book in the damn library and she would still be hopeless! Though saying that would do no good.

Harry and the Weasleys tried to cheer him up with a variety of sweets, assurances Malfoy was due his comeuppance and a chocolate frog.

"I've loads of Dumbledores," Neville said, offering it to Ron.

"That's where I read that name before!" Harry exclaimed.

"Dumbledore's?" Ron scoffed. "You'd have read it everywhere, mate, he is the headmaster."

"No!" Harry snapped pointing to the card. " _Flammel_!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione pressed their heads together and read the card together. Dumbledore worked on the philosopher's stone with Nicholas Flammel and..."Shit!" Hermione slapped her forward as she remembered where she'd read about it.

"Hermione?" Ron said regarding her with large eyes.

It was too late Hermione bounded for the girls' dormitory, ignoring the sneering Pavarti and Lavender as she snatched a large volume from beside her bed and slid down the banister to meet them.

"It can turn lead to gold and more importantly make a person immortal!" She whispered pointing at the passage. "That's why they want it! Who _wouldn't_ want to conquer death?"

"Or make boatloads of gold," Ron said astonished.

"You have a one track mind, Ron," Hermione sighed.

* * *

Monday morning after transfiguration Hermione took a deep breath and wondered what she could say. _My dad wants to kill my best friend, cancel the match please?_

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione bit her lip. "Do you have a second?"

"Are you quite alright, girl?" McGonagall peered at her over her glasses.

Hermione must've looked like she felt. "You need to cancel the quidditch match, Professor."

"And rob Gryffindor of the chance to regain the points you, Potter and Longbottom lost? Did your father put you up to-"

 _All you adults are useless!_ she wanted to cry but instead: "Listen," she said quietly. "Coming forward was the last thing I wanted to do, but I know something dreadful is going to happen."

"Sit down, girl," she sighed."Would you mind telling me why you believe something is going to happen?"

"You _never_ caught the person who jinxed Harry's broomstick. What if they do it again?"

"Is that what you're concerned about?" McGonagall scoffed. "I assure you Potter is in no danger."

"Did you even launch an investigation?" Hermione breathed.

McGonagall's nostril's flared and rage flickered in her beady eyes. "I believe that is the business of myself and the other professors. I understand you're concerned, but nothing will happen. Did we even launch an investigation?! Your father certainly made sure you're adequately suspicious, didn't he?"

_You have no idea..._

Lunch saw the arrival of two birds for Hermione. A raven with a letter from Hiro, which provided a small spark of joy and the second was an owl with a letter from McGonagall providing the details of their detention. Harry's and Neville's were identical, but Hermione's had a cheeky post-script.

_And when you emerge from the Forest alive, you can assure your father that I was not trying to get you killed!_

* * *

"Harry, Hermione," Hagrid told them standing at the edge of the forest. "You two are with me. Neville, you and Malfoy can cover the other end."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip and tugged on his sleeve, as though she were six again. "I'm sorry, Hagrid, but, erm, I mean, I don't think, erm..."

"Ou' wi' it, Hermione," Hagrid said, not unkindly.

"It's just that, erm..." Hermione took in a deep breath. "It's a stupid idea! Shit! Sorry! Not stupid, but terrible...it...Pairing Neville with Malfoy is _asking_ for trouble!"

Hagrid recoiled, looking quite hurt and Hermione wished her brain would work. It was as if she had lost all ability to...no, she was never able to say the right things. Social interaction was just a game Hermione would never understand the rules to. "Just," she sighed. "Pair me with Malfoy, neither of us can mess with the other. He's untouchable and my father heads his house. We _have_ to tolerate each other."

"Yer father would flay me alive if I didn' have you with me," Hagrid explained.

She believed it. _Have to be with a useless adult, Hermione Elizabeth. Have to erase your memory, little girl. It's all to keep you safe, love. I know best...What a bloody prat!_

"Hones'ly, Hermione," he smiled warmly. "Wha's the wors' tha' could happen?"

"If nothing happens, I will _literally_ eat my hat," she muttered in Harry's ear.

They put it from their minds as Malfoy, Neville and Fang set off in one direction and Hagrid went off in another direction. Paths choked with tangled tree roots and creepers barely became less hazardous under the light of Hermione's wand. If Percy hadn't tipped her father off, she would love to steal what she needed for owl-sight elixir as well as the sleeping draught. She spied a silhouette of a centaur standing in the light filtered through a rare clearing staring at Mars.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said.

Bane, the red haired, solemn patriarch of the centaurs that called the forbidden forest home. And Hermione and Hagrid knew a secret of the strict, cold centaur. And that was the sight of 'fawn-eyed human foals' under a certain age made him squeal like a little girl around a three week old kitten. An age Hermione seemed to have passed as he didn't regard her with the same mind-numbing cooing, but he also didn't regard them with the hostility reserved for humans.

"Hullo, Bane," Hagrid greeted him. "We're lookin' fer an injured unicorn. This young lad is Harry Potter, and o' course you remember little Hermione. Harry, this is Bane, he's a centaur."

"I'd have never guessed," Harry said, his trademark cheekiness undercut by his stunned 'centaurs are real?' look.

A back and forth between Hagrid and Bane whittled away minutes, and all it bought them was that Mars was bright ( _a war is coming? I should have paid more attention when I read an_ Astro-diviners Field Guide!), and that killing a unicorn was an act of incredible evil. They left with Hagrid cursing Centaurs and Hermione wondering if it was culturally insensitive? racist? Speicist? It didn't seem right, but Bane's insistence on speaking in riddles annoyed her too. Though not nearly as much as being right about Neville and Malfoy.

They followed the red fireworks to find Neville shaking in the soil while Malfoy cackled evilly.

"Neville," Hermione sighed helping him up. "Are you okay?"

"Harry, you should-"

"That'll be a disaster and you know it, Hagrid!" Hermione whispered. "They hate each other."

"Yer father-"

"Needn't know," she whispered. "Just don't leave those two idiots alone together. You should take Malfoy and I'll take either Neville or Harry."

"We can hear you!" Harry snapped.

"Don't spoil the fun, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "I was waiting to see when she'd remember that she was stuck with the oaf. Can't let Daddy's little girl get hurt."

"Call Hagrid an oaf again," Hermione challenged in a cold dangerous voice. "And I will spill every last detail I milked from Pansy to Lavender Brown. Our whole year will know." _Please, don't call my bluff..._

"You wouldn't..." he gasped.

"Try me!"

"I swear when my father hears..."

"Harry, Neville," Hermione said loudly. "I have the most _hilarious_ thing to tell you!"

"Shut up!" Malfoy cried.

"Apologize to Hagrid and Neville and I'll think about it!"

To her amazement, Malfoy muttered an apology to both of them and stared at his feet, his pale pointed face flushing pink. Hermione owed Pansy a warning or...

"Don't bother Pansy about this," she shrugged. "If she comes to me upset you _will_ regret it!"

Malfoy gulped and a vindictive flutter in her heart sent warmth through her body. _You disgusting bitch! You really_ are _your father's daughter!_

"We're wastin' time!" Hagrid groaned. "I'll take Neville, you two seem ter have _him_ under control, and yeh'll be safer wi' the three o' you. Wi' me please, Neville."

"Right," Neville squeaked following Hagrid closely.

Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet through their trek, only letting out a grumble every now and then when Harry or Hermione knelt down to look for track marks or blood in the soil.

"Hermione?" Harry called. "I think I've found something."

Sure enough he did, droplets resembling mercury splattered across the tangled network of roots. Unicorn blood.

"It looks like it made a path," Harry whispered following it, Hermione tailing him with her light.

"Maybe it was wounded and took off," Hermione mused in a whisper. "Or its attacker dragged it...We'll have to be _very_ quiet."

Harry nodded and the two set two following the trail of blood, and Hermione hoped it only led to a wounded unicorn. What was that spell to knit bleeding wounds again? Of course she blanked on it _now!_

"Are you two completely mad?!" Malfoy hissed. "You want to go _toward_ the thing killing unicorns?"

"Stay behind if you want," Harry hissed back. "I don't care!"

"Stay, go," Hermione whispered. "I don't give a damn either, but be _quiet_ about it!"

Hermione stalked off ignoring the hard beating in her chest as the shining silver pools became bigger and the sounds of the wood screamed threats at her. Though, she knew she imagined at least _some_ of them as hostile. Her father had done an excellent job convincing her the world at large held nothing but threats, even when she _knew_ she couldn't trust him. How much of her freezing came from her life as a shut-in? She put it from her mind as she heard the boys approach at her heals.

"You are mental running off like that!" Malfoy hissed grabbing her wand arm.

"Shh!" She hissed attempting to rip her arm back.

" _I'm_ not getting expelled because you have a death wish!" Malfoy ignored her.

Hermione tried to shake Malfoy, he wasn't particularly strong or big, but he was a good head or so taller than her, and had a grip like a pitbull. "If I get injured I'll tell people you tried to protect me," she hissed. "If I die, you get to pretend you are a failed goddamn hero! Now let me go or I _will_ scream!"

Malfoy released her, but glared at her, probably cooking up a vengeance plot of his own. She turned to the task at hand as icy tendrils gripped her heart. "Where the hell is Harry?"

"I don't care where famous Potter is!" he grumbled.

"If you thought _me_ getting killed would get you expelled, think of what getting 'famous Harry Potter' would get you! He's the second coming of Merlin to this school!"

They followed the trail and didn't just find Harry, but a cloaked form leaping from the mangled, bloodied body of a young unicorn while Harry staggered on the spot clutching his forehead. Malfoy screamed and Hermione stood petrified as the cloaked figure of a tall man lunged for Harry. Ice filled her heart and lungs, and she clutched her wand with a white knuckled grip as she tried to urge herself to do something...Malfoy shook behind her, and Harry collapsed with an agonized moan. He laid on the ground motionless...helpless... _DO_ SOMETHING _!_

" _Petrificus_ _Totalis_!" Hermione squeaked hitting the figure.

 _It worked!_ The cloaked figure fell to the ground, his limbs bound to his side, face down. Hermione approached the downed figure before Malfoy could come to and stop her. She hoovered over the figure ready to reveal the culprits face when _something_ ripped her foot from under her sending her falling back.

The figure hadn't been as handled as she wished. Mere seconds passed, and _somehow_ he lifted the curse without help. She only managed to buy them seconds. He rose to his feet, and all Hermione could see from under the man's hood was a pale jaw, mouth twisted in fury, teeth and lips drenched in silver unicorn blood. She was certain that would be the last thing she ever saw when she heard the distant thundering of hooves.

A blond centaur with large eyes and a palomino body trotted over sending the figure flying off into the wood. She slowly rose to meet her hooved saviour and with his permission helped Harry onto his back. Harry, thankfully, started to come to and a hundred questions escaped both of them as Firenze brought them to Hagrid and the other centaurs.

"This is Harry Potter!" Firenze told Bane after being chastised for letting a human ride him. "Mars is bright tonight. A war is coming..."

Hermione stood enraptured by Firenze's story. He suspected Voldemort had come back, and that Harry was in grave danger. He spoke like they expected Harry to be a target, because he was supposed to be the undoing of Voldemort. Harry, an eleven-year-old boy, the undoing of the Dark Lord...and an oncoming war to decide the fate of the world. All on Harry's shoulders...

* * *

"I thought Sn-whoever wanted the stone just wanted to be rich..." Harry gulped that night in the common room.

"A half life..." Hermione choked. "If the Dark Lord gets that stone...it's over...It'll be much more potent than unicorn blood. How...But Dumbledore...I... " Hermione bit her lip and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Do you think he'll be able to?" Ron asked solemnly. "Kill Harry and get the stone..."

The three of them sat in silence and Hermione thought about her father. He couldn't be working for Voldemort...he couldn't...but after everything else, she didn't know how he could not...if he was innocent why so many secrets? But how could he...she didn't want to believe it. Her concern had to be Harry, but she couldn't stop from playing back the last eight years she could remember...she couldn't reconcile the two.

Voldemort _was_ afraid of Dumbledore...Dumbledore could protect Harry...or was he also not to be trusted. Hermione's stomach churned and her chest tightened as all of her muscles tensed. Dumbledore seemed trustworthy...but was anyone? No, they couldn't trust a single adult with this...they were _all_ liars...no, that wasn't fair. In fact, that was kind of stupid...very stupid.

"Harry," she said trying to keep her voice calm. " _He_ is afraid of Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore is here, he can't touch you...you're safe...we should sleep..."

She doubted the boys slept, and Hermione didn't either...how could she save Harry, protect her father and keep the stone from Voldemort? They all seemed at odds, and what if she had to choose between them? Would she make the right choice? Did she even know what the right choice was? Hermione threw her pillow over her face to muffle the sounds of her sobs through the night.

* * *

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_I am writing to extend a formal invitation to allow your daughter, Hermione, to attend Mahoukatoro during the month of July as part of our cultural enrichment program. My grandson and granddaughter, Hiro and Kaori, have volunteered (and on the part of my grandson requested!) to be her guides during the month. My grandson insists that Hermione would be a brilliant choice for the program, and though we normally don't request outside of applicants, I believe her correspondence with Hiro over this year will allow her to adjust and understand our customs much more quickly than others...and where you are probably as used to claims of nepotism as I am, I will admit that Hiro's insistence did have some bearing on this decision._

_I understand you will probably want to discuss this opportunity with your daughter. Agreeing to this would be committing to Julys with us until she is 20. Should you decide to take part in this program, please send a response before 1, May 1992. We will also need to review Hermione's transcripts and require a reference letter from a teacher, that is not you for obvious reasons. I look forward to hearing from you._

_Until Next,_

_Yamato Ito, Headmaster of Mahoukatoro_

Severus reread the letter, this might have been the solution he needed. If he could get Yamato to agree to take her earlier, he could have Hermione far, far away from Quirrell and any threat that he posed. He wished he'd gotten this letter after Hallowe'en, it might have been easier to leverage earlier in the academic year and he could have had her sent away the minute Quirrell threatened her...and yet, somehow the idea of her being so far from him still terrified him, even when he _knew_ she would be safer half way around the world. Regardless of his every instinct demanding he keep her near him, he knew what was best.

_Headmaster Yamato,_

_Hermione is thrilled at the prospect of taking part in the program. I hereby extend my permission for my daughter to partake. We will be gathering the necessary paperwork and will have it sent off before the deadline_ (It was already April!). _As honoured as we both are that Hermione was chosen for this program, I am afraid I have a rather strange request. One that I do not make lightly._

_For reasons I am not at liberty to disclose, I believe it would be best for her to finish her term at your school rather than ours. Again, I do understand that this is unorthodox, but I have reasons to believe my child's safety is at risk. I'm certain that as a father and grandfather you understand why this belief has led me to request this._

_My sincere thanks,_

_Professor S. Snape._

He sent off the letter and decided to track down Quirrell before the match and... _Shit! The match!_ He'd forgotten that he'd volunteered to referee it. Why did McGonagall have to appoint, not only a first year, but a first year most likely to have others want him dead, as a Seeker?! She had to know that was a terrible idea. It didn't matter. Quirrell wasn't going to get another chance to try his tricks.

Quirrell walked out of the entrance hall at the exact right time for him to catch up. Perhaps if he knew just how much Severus suspected he would back down...though it wasn't likely if he wasn't working alone like he had suspected. How often had he walked in on the man muttering to himself, or whimpering in a corner? He hoped that weakness would make him cower more before the immediate threat than the worse threat.

"Quirrell," he hissed walking to his side.

"Y-y-yes, S-S-Severus?" he squeaked.

"Meet me in the forest after the match. There is something we _must_ discuss."

"Y-y-yes."

* * *

"Oh thank God!" Hermione sighed releasing a million tensed muscles and loosening the white-knuckled grip on the wand she hid up her sleeve.

Nothing unusual happened with Harry or his broomstick the entire match. It played like a completely normal match...or what she expected to be a normal match.

"We won!" Ron exclaimed.

The ending of the game allowed Hermione to breathe again, but it seemed, though Ron had seemed as grim and nervous as she was until the end, but instead of untensing, he jumped for joy with the rest of the Gryffindor lot. Malfoy made a snide comment that earned Ron's ire, and before she knew it, the lanky boy at her side was now leaping over her shoulder at him.

Shouting commenced and Hermione slipped out of the throng of people jeering and throwing punches. She managed to completely evade detection as she slipped onto the grass and waited for Harry to emerge from the changing tents when she spied a purple clad man checking over his shoulder and creeping to the forest. Quirrell...what was he up to? She couldn't shake the burning voice in her mind that told her to follow him.

She found a nearby tree, gulped and climbed, quietly into it. She picked a lower branch where she could hide in the foliage and still spy Quirrell on the ground, wringing his hands and muttering to himself.

"It will be fine, it will be fine...we'll take care of things, won't we? He won't stop us...he can't stop us..."

Did he only stutter in the presence of others? She supposed that was a possibility, but she wondered what he was talking about, and more importantly who was the other part of 'we'? She wished she knew, but her musing was intetrrupted as the branch shook and a skinny form appeared from the rustling leaves. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise and nearly lost her balance as a pair of green eyes beheld her with shock.

 _Damn it, Harry!_ Hermione let herself breathe again and she pressed a finger to her lips.

Harry closed his mouth, nodded solemnly and the two peered down at the now two forms below them. The second was a black cloaked figure who lowered his hood to reveal her father. _No...please, don't let this be what I think it is..._

"I-I d-don't know why you wanted to m-meet me h-here, Severus," Quirrell quivered.

"I'm sure you do, Quirrell," he closed the gap between them. "Students aren't supposed to know about the philosopher's stone."

Harry nearly fell out of the tree at the mention of the stone, but luckily, he steadied himself and didn't draw attention to them. Hermione might have done the same had she not been hugging the branch they were on for dear life. A gift Hermione and her father shared was the ability to leap to conclusions in a single bound, and she'd hoped this was one of those times. But this conversation dashed the last hope she clung to that he was innocent.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell!" he snarled. "Think _very_ carefully about where your loyalties lie."

"Th-think of y-your-"

"I would be _very_ careful about who you threaten," he grabbed Quirrell by the arm and brought his face dangerously close to his. "You don't want to know the things I would do if I found myself with nothing to lose!"

The two men left the forest separately, and Harry and Hermione gulped before skulking back up to the castle with heavy hearts.

They found Ron in the common room celebrating with the others, beaming and bragging about Malfoy's blackened eyes. Until he saw their pale solemn faces.

"We need to talk!" Harry whispered.

The three dodged the celebrating Gryffindors and left the common room, opting for the privacy of a dark and dusty broom cupboard on the same floor. Hermione dug her nails into her hands and her stomach churned while a knot formed in her throat. She sat opposite the boys and tried to bring the words to her lips. She could barely make out their interrogating eyes, but she still shrunk under their gaze. They needed to know the truth, but Hermione shook silently while listening to Harry tell Ron about the conversation, hugging her knees and feeling blood at her fingertips and tasting it on her lowerlip as she tried to let breath find its way to her lungs.

A sob escaped her lips as she tried to speak. In a broken, shaking voice Hermione told them everything. About seeing her father jinxing the broom, his leg, the wiping her memory, the journal entries about the conflict they had on Hallowe'en. Everything. A year's worth of secrets flowed from her with the tears, she was unable to stop either.

"Hermione," Ron gulped. "Snape tried to _kill_ Harry, and might be working for You-Know-Who. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"H-he's my father!" Hermione wailed. "I-I-I-wanted to be wr-wrong! I'm s-sorry! I'm so sorry!"


	14. Trials and Tribulations Through the Trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and Hermione resolve to brave the trials through the trapdoor, still convinced Snape is the culprit. Severus tails Quirrell while trying to ensure his daughter's safety.

"Yessir," Hermione nodded keeping as much distance as she could.

"Is that all you have to say?" Severus asked.

Silence, her gaze fixed on the floor and rather than shrinking into the nearest wall, she stood rigid and erect, more like a little soldier than a girl speaking with her father. He had expected her to have some kind of emotion, to either be upset at being sent away or excited at the prospect of going to Japan. Perhaps a mixture of the two, but this dead reception was nothing short of eerie.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked.

She shook her head, the only part of her body language giving away a hint of an emotion was the sadly familiar clawing at her own hands. He had agreed to something quite major without asking for her input, and she had staggering little to say about it. Though Hermione had been expert at avoiding him by now, it seemed her decision not to speak to him extended to such criticisms. He doubted she understood that sending her away was the last thing he wanted to do; he also imagined that she didn't understand he was doing this for her own safety.

He had planned to explain those things to her, but he started to doubt anything more he had to say would be processed. It was as if she were counting the seconds until he excused her. Now that he knew that she knew about his modifying her memory...well, he couldn't blame her, could he? Maybe he should have waited for Yamato's reply. But what if he agreed? Could he just say 'pack your things you leave for Japan Saturday week'? There was no winning...

"I will let you know what's going on as soon as I get a reply what will be going on," he sighed. "You may leave."

"Yessir," she said in a detached voice. "Thank you, sir."

He watched her leave the classroom knowing she would return to the shadows only appearing in classes and expertly slipping out before anyone had a chance to speak with her. At least this meant Quirrell would have trouble getting a hold of her even if he couldn't send her away before July. He returned to his desk and wonderedif there was more to her new cold demeanour than his admitting to using a memory charm on her. Such a grim child, as if she possessed some cursed knowledge...that worried him.

As the week progressed he noticed a dread shared between Hermione, Potter and Weasley, each trying as hard as possible not to acknowledge his existence in classes. How often had he spied the boys whispering in the corridors with grim expressions on their faces. He had no clue how they knew, but it was evident the boys knew about the stone, as well as Hermione...all he'd done was for naught. And now there was the additional challenge Potter being involved. Was the boy _trying_ to get himself killed?

Mid-week, he finally got his reply from Yamato, and he couldn't say he was surprised to see that Yamato was unable to accept her earlier than July. Moving forward without that option was something he prepared for. He cast a sideways glance at Quirrell who chased his lunch around his plate, looking quite pale and frail. Perhaps he cracked under the pressure or realized just what he had gotten himself into...though he knew that was wishful thinking. He followed him everywhere when he could. The message was clear, Quirrell would have to get past him or face the wrath of his supposed master...Quirrell was bound to do something stupid and soon.

Until then, he would proceed as he had been in the upcoming weeks.

* * *

As the weeks progressed Hermione poured herself into revisions and spent her time out of class in the library, choosing to retreat back to the secret passage she discovered in the summer and hid away from anyone who might want to speak with her. After the episode in the broom cupboard, she didn't know how to talk to Harry and Ron. Every time they saw her she could see the damn pity in their eyes. How often had she bumped into Ron only to see him open his mouth before pressing his lips into a thin line. Harry was no different. Both of them seemed so torn between giving her space and talking to her...Hermione made the decision for them.

For the life of her, she had no idea how she managed to get through the weeks worth of written and practical exams with so much on her mind. But they did offer her a reprieve, permission to think of something other than what she _knew_ she had to do and soon. She would find Harry and Ron, letting them know that she was with them in going off after the stone. It was only a manner of time before Quirrell broke down and gave her father whatever information he needed to steal the stone. Was the entire staff working together to protect it? She remembered that many of them worked together over the summer in secret, she imagined it was on the stone's protections, meaning he would have no clue how Quirrell's would work...that must have been what he wanted.

"I'm with you," Hermione told Harry and Ron in a whisper. "I can't let this happen...no matter what I feel..."

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked. "If comes down to it...Could you?"

Hermione gulped. If it came down to _that_ , she didn't think they'd survive. And she doubted she could...no, they would go, steal the stone and give it to Dumbledore before _anything_ could happen. Getting the stone permanently away from Voldemort was what mattered. Hermione couldn't allow herself to think of the conflict if it came to it.

"I'll do what needs to be done," she whispered in a broken voice.

"Okay," Ron said. "What's the plan?"

"We still need to figure out how to get passed Fluffy," Harry mused. "Once we know that...And Snape nearly lost his leg, so he won't be like to try it before then either..."

"At least it's not Norbert guarding him," Ron scoffed. "That would be a disaster."

"Ron!" Hermione squealed. "You're a genius! Hagrid _always_ wanted a dragon, they could have..."

"Used the dragon to pry information out of Hagrid!" Harry finished with a gasp. "You knew Hagrid always wanted a dragon, Hermione, did Snape too?"

"Yes," Hermione choked. Now that she found her resolve, she didn't know why each new piece of evidence her father was a Death Eater shattered her.

"Let's go to Hagrid's," Harry said. "Hermione, you can use my cloak, we definitely don't want you caught out of the tower right now."

Hermione nodded and the three went to visit Hagrid.

Hagrid beamed at their arrival and put the kettle on, nearly spilling the water when he saw Hermione throw off the cloak.

"Blimey," Hagrid sighed. "I'll have ter get used ter tha'..."

"Wha's on yer minds?" he asked as the three perched themselves.

"We, erm," Harry started. "Hagrid, we were wondering how you managed to get a dragon egg."

"Oh, well, erm, yer see, Harry..." Hagrid told them about the card game at the Hogshead with a gambler who miraculously wanted to gamble with a bloody dragon egg. Was Hagrid so blinded by his desire for a dragon that he didn't question it? He was patient with the line of questioning from the three of them, which allowed them not only to discover the mysterious gambler was male, cloaked, and dangerously curious. A curiousity Hagrid sated when he bragged about how good he was with magical creatures, and told him about Fluffy!

"'Sall about how you handle 'em," he beamed. "I tol' him if ye play him a bi' o' music, he'll fall right to sleep!"

 _Oh, Hagrid, you poor man...why?_ But instead Hermione changed the subject. "So, you know that we know, erm..."

"Ye three aren' still on abou' tha' bloody stone are ye?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione sent an elbow into his ribs...not as gently as she probably should have. "You told us it's safe, Hagrid, and we believe you. But we were wondering, who, aside from you, obviously, that Dumbledore would trust enough to defend the stone?"

Hagrid listed everyone Hermione suspected, including her father, and she knew it was Quirrell's defencce that he couldn't get past. But with how Quirrell had been behaving lately, and Harry reporting he found him in a classroom crying...all three of them knew they had to act now.

Hermione recloaked and the three left Hagrid to find Dumbledore. Hermione still didn't know about it...but he seemed to be the only person they could even remotely trust. Hermione wished she could just destroy it...but that meant the death of at least two people, and she knew she was a monster for even considering it.

"What are you boys doing inside?" McGonagall asked with an armload of books. "It's beautiful out."

"We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore!" Harry blurted after a stilted silence.

Professor McGonagall informed them that Dumbledore was out on urgent ministry business and dismissed Harry's concerns that it was important. That was when Harry and Ron both blurted out that it was about the stone, prompting McGonagall to drop her books and stare at them.

"How did you find out?" she whispered in a low, dangerous voice.

"Erm," Harry bit his lip.

"Hermione..." Ron blurted. "She,erm, over the summer she figured you were up to something..."

_Damn it, Ron!_

"And she told us about it on Hallowe'en, because..." Ron breathed. "Because she said she thought whoever let the troll in was after it..."

"And we think Sn-someone's trying to steal it now!" Harry said.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I don't know how she managed to sneak around enough to find out, nor why she told you two and not us. A teacher's daughter, you'd think we'd be the first she came to! Either way, I assure you, the stone is perfectly safe, and none of your business. I would relay that to her as well! I had better not catch _any_ of you skulking around!"

She stormed off after recollecting her books and that left the three of them looking around dumbstruck.

"If Dumbledore's not here..." Ron whispered. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't..."

"And what are you boys doing inside on such a lovely day?" her father's voice interrupted their whispering.

The two looked at each other before turning their gaze back to him.

"I would be careful standing around and speaking in hushed tones," he told them. "Don't want to be losing Gryffindor any more points because someone thinks you're up to something. And poor Hermione would be simply livid to find out you've wasted any opportunities to be outdoors."

He wasn't exactly wrong that she was jealous of those who could roam freely, but bringing up the restrictions _he_ imposed like it was circumstances out of their control made her remember every last thing he'd done. All in the name of what? Her safety? If she was damaged, it was his fault... _unless you were born broken..._ No, she didn't have time to think about that.

"And Potter," he said. "If I hear about anymore nightly escapades, I will _personally_ see to you expulsion."

"Hermione," Harry whispered to her. "Ron and I will be watching the corridor, you should keep an eye on Snape."

_Just spying on your father...what could go wrong?_

* * *

Hermione watched her father in the staff room look over his newspaper several times to stare at Quirrell, who shrank and shuddered when he caught it before returning to his conversation with Flitwick. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but the other professors failed to pick up on it. All chatting about how glad they were the year was at an end soon, as if they were children excited for a holiday.

The tension became much more clear when McGonagall entered the room, staring at her father, nostrils flaring and a fire jumping behind her spectacles.

Her father immediately leapt up and leaned in close. "What happened?"

" _Your daughter..._ " she hissed.

"Is she..." colour drained from his face.

"She _knows_ about the stone, Severus."

"Might I suggest you don't burst into the room with no words but 'your daughter'?" he snapped. "I thought something had happened to her!" Worry lingered on his face, but the drained immediate horror left and he stopped reaching for his wand. "Do you know how she knows?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to know!" she hissed. "Potter and Weasley seem to think she found out during the summer. Told them all about it after Hallowe'en because she thought someone let the troll in as a diversion so they could steal it. But if you had her on such a tight leash, how could she?"

"I don't know," he said in a low, cold voice. "Perhaps those boys lied to you? I know there's no way she could have known by then...They know expelling her would be presented with unique challenges, I imagine they think she's safe if they threw her under the train? And my daughter's no idiot ( _I would have assumed different by the way you speak to me!_ ) she would have come to me if she'd suspected something so dangerous would fall into the wrong hands. If not me, then you or the headmaster."

"We both know that's a load of cock and bull, Severus!" McGonagall snapped.

"Shit," he sighed, and Hermione thought she saw him glance over to Quirrell. "I have no idea how she knows. I'll talk to her about it tomorrow after my class with her. She won't be doing anything stupid. I suggest you find a way to deter the boys. I'm not sure how effective I was with them..."

"Already taken care of!" she said. "Found those little fools sniffing around the corridor and told them I would deduct enough points to put them in the negatives, and if that didn't work, I'd write their parents."

"I see," he mused.

Quirrell excused himself among this conversation, Hermione moved so he wouldn't bump into her on his way out. She didn't like how close she had to hoover near the door to ensure she had a way out.

McGonagall moaned about Hermione's behaviour the past few weeks. "And to think, she had the nerve to say 'did you even launch an investigation'! I would suggest-"

"I shall talk to her about all of this tomorrow and she _will_ apologize," he said. "I'm loathe to remind you, but you are aware you can expel her?"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp.

"Severus," McGonagall gasped in her stead.

"Neither of us want that, but _she_ doesn't know that," he shrugged. "You'll find that threat much more effective than moaning to me. Now, as I said, I will talk to her, but I'm afraid I really do have to go."

Hermione crept out behind him, careful not to leave the door open too long or get too close. He constantly checked over his shoulders as he turned corners. Did he expect to be followed. Terror mounted as she realised he was making his way to the third floor. Was this it? Hermione gripped her wand in case he made a move for the door. He stopped half way to the forbidden corridor.

"And here I thought I was following you," he said coldly. "It'll be so much easier if you just show yourself."

Hermione pressed up against the wall. She had been so quiet, how could he know someone was following him?

"Come out, Quirrell," he turned around, wand in hand. "Now. Or I _will_ find you."

 _Why would Quirrell be following him? Is this a stalemate between the two?_ Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as he approached her. Until, from the opposite corner, Quirrell did emerge.

"I-I-I w-w-wasn't f-following y-you!" he squeaked. "I-I w-w-was j-just..."

"Save it!" he spat. "Don't think I didn't notice you left immediately after McGonagall revealed those three knew about the stone!"

"B-b-but..."

"Oh drop the act!" he hissed.

"P-please d-don't h-hurt m-me, S-Severus!" he sniffed.

"Leave and we can both pretend nothing happened."

"O-of c-c-course," he said, his squeaky voice and trembling hands betrayed by...a smirk? What was Hermione missing? "B-but th-think o-of p-p-poor l-little H-Hermione..."

Whatever Quirrell was about to say, Hermione would never know because he was cut off, not by a spell, but by a loud smack as her father back handed his face. The man fell to the ground, and looked horrified as her father pointed his wand at him. "If you _ever_ even look in my daughter's direction, so much as say her name, I do not care what the consequences are!" he snarled. "Threaten my child again and _I will kill you!_ I told you back in the forest, without her I have _nothing_ left to lose. Be _very_ careful who you threaten."

Quirrell whimpered and scampered off to a lower floor. She watched her father take one last look around before seem heading down the stairs himself.

"He's gone mad!" Hermione whispered, trying not to cry back in the common room. "He's threatened to _kill_ Quirrell. And Quirrell...I guess he'd been trying to use me as leverage to get him to stop. I guess now I know why my father thought I was in danger...I thought it was just his usual paranoia, or else trying to get me out of this mess..."

 _Without her I have nothing left to lose!_ Was that what Quirrell was about to say in the forest? Was "think of your-" going to be finished with daughter? She thought his warning back then was to tell Quirrell not to threaten him. However, if it was a threat to her that made him go mad, maybe, just maybe if _she_ cut him off before going to retrieve the stone, she could stop him without anyone getting hurt?

"We have to go for the stone tonight!" Harry said.

* * *

Harry and Ron met Hermione on the stairs to the boys' dormitory nothing more than her wand, flute and a heart that refused to beat anything less than five times it's normal speed. They were actually doing this. Hermione desperately hoped the three of them would beat her father to the site, if they got the stone first, all they'd have to do is play keep away...They just had to get their first.

A hitch in the plan took the form of a round faced boy in a blue dressing gown clutching his toad.

"Neville?" Hermione asked. "Is everything alright? Maybe you should go back to bed? You look awfully pale."

"Dreadful!" Harry agreed.

"Sleep would definitely..." Ron started but was cut off.

"I'm not letting you three take any more points from our house!" Neville said. "I-I can't let you go out! I'll fight you!"

"Neville!" Harry hissed. "This is really important. I don't expect you to understand, but you have to let us through!"

"Move, Neville!" Ron joined in. "Now!"

"You were the one that told me I have to stand up for myself!"

Ron shook. "But not with us! Come on, Neville, we're your mates!"

"Are you?" he scoffed.

"I want us to be," Hermione said in a very small and solemn voice. _I do what I must..._ "Which is why I'm so, so _sorry_ about this, Neville."

She raised her with a shaking hand ( _Come on, you set your own father on fire...do it, you coward!_ ) and tried not to look into Neville's wide blue eyes, she terrified him.

" _Petrificus Totalis!"_

Neville's arms pressed to his sides and legs locked together before he fell to the scarlet carpet with a loud thud. He laid there looking betrayed, his eyes combing over the three of them.

Hermione ripped a cushion and yellow afghan from a sofa and covered Neville after placing the cushion under his head. The truth was it probably eased Hermione's guilt more than Neville's discomfort. She apologized again before joining the boys under the invisibility cloak.

Silent as the grave, the three of them crept along the walls, careful to avoid any detection. Hermione read doom in every sound from Peeves, muted conversations of teachers or birds. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. For a moment they thought they were actually detected as a pair of lamp yellow eyes stared at them intently. Did the cloak not work on cats? Or did Mrs. Norris smell them?

"Oh," Ron whispered. "Can we? Can we kick her this once?"

_Is everything a joke to you, Ron?_

They made it to the forbidden corridor without further incident, and they braced themselves to play for Fluffy immediately. Harry already had his flute (also made by Hagrid) resting under his lips and the three entered. Fluffy started barking at the three of them, but he lacked the intensity he had when they first came upon him. Harry played a soothing melody immediately, and Fluffy's massive eyes drooped as he stretched and lowered himself to the ground.

It worked! But Hermione hadn't time to celebrate when she saw something gold glinting at the dogs massive paws. Resting at his feet was an abandoned harp. He was already here! They didn't beat him to it. Something else, something rather silly actually, nagged at her as she moved the harp to open the trapdoor. Did her father even play the harp? Granted, it wouldn't be the first thing she didn't know about him, nor the biggest, but it did bother her.

The thought left as Ron and Hermione stared down into the darkness of the trapdoor. The light from Hermione's wand cut off, and there was no sign of a ground. Was this a bottomless pit? No, that was stupid! But still, Hermione dug her nails into wrist with her free hand as she tried to steady her breathing. What if they fell forever? That was worse than the shattering impact of the ground. Nothing, no sound, no feeling, just darkness and complete disorientation without any hope of regaining control.

"You first," Ron whispered. "Go on, Hermione, we don't have...are you okay? I'll go first then?"

Harry shook his head and pointing at himself.

"You want to go first?" Ron said. "But Fluffy-"

Hermione sheathed her wand and dug out her own flute, continuing Harry's melody as she watched each boy jump down. Her heart pounded in her ears, and every last fibre of her being told her to turn back, but Hermione shut her eyes, still playing and jumped praying that the ground was forgiving, or at least that she didn't have to fall for too long. She hit the ground, and it was, indeed much more forgiving than she had anticipated.

The relief was short-lived. All along the damp stone walls, and cloying thick air, thick green tendrils danced and writhed around them. "Nobody move a muscle..." Hermione gulped. "Steady your breathing. This is the Devil's Snare."

Hermione wasn't having luck following her own advice, but she hadn't been in its grasp for too long. She untied herself from the tendrils around her ankles and found a bare patch of floor. Ron squirmed and the tendrils choked at him, Harry only fared slightly better, the snare cared much more for the struggling Ron.

 _Shit! Shit! Shit! Your friends are going to die here if you don't do something! This is all your fault! Do something!_ But she could only watch in horror as Ron's face contorted in agony, she could just barely see his face now. She tried to remember something she'd read in herbology ages ago. _Devil's Snare...likes the cold and damp...cold...damp...Shit! Fire! But you can't hurt them!...Incendio would completely engulf the plant...and them...what can I...I set my father on fire once..._

Hermione muttered her choice words to summon the bluebell flame she had created over the summer. It would still play to the Devil's Snare's vulnerability to fire, but Harry and Ron would have to sit in it for minutes to sustain damage! The flames danced, casting blue light across the room, crackling and popping on the Snare's moist vines. The tendrils loosened around both of them and they ran to Hermione's patch of floor, eyes wide, faces pale and covered in fungal sweat.

"You couldn't have done that sooner?!" Ron choked. "It was the troll all over again. _Promise_ me you're not going to freeze up like that again! It could _kill_ us!"

"Ron!" Harry hissed.

"Don't," she gulped. "He's right...I can't keep losing my head in crises."

They walked into a new room. Golden light bathed the room from lit lamps in the four corners, and the massive stone walls, floor and vaulted ceiling were completely untouched by the last chamber's humidity. They could breathe easier and the only thing filling the air now were strange metallic bodied birds, glinting in the lamplight. But they weren't birds. What was the nature of the challenge here? A stack of broomsticks laying neglected and Hermione's heart sank to her stomach once more.

"It's locked!" Ron said.

"Oh," Hermione gave a broken laugh. " _Alohamora?" Please work!_

She tried to open the door and nothing happened.

"Did you not think I tried that first?" Ron glowered.

"Oh..heh...oops..." she gulped shrinking under his glare.

"Those are keys," Harry said. "We'll have to catch the right one."

Ron examined the lock tapping the silver lock and pursing his lips. "We're looking for an old silver key, large and-"

"Found it!" Harry pointed.

In the fluttering of hundreds of keys, a glimpse of silver shone with brilliant blue wings among the bronze and gold white-winged keys of an assortment of sizes. How could they have missed...

"Thank god you're a seeker," Hermione breathed. "We'll just have to distract the other keys while you get it...knowing Flitwick, the other keys will probably attack you if you get to close."

Ron showed surprising competence once more. After tonight she was going to give him more time, more patience. He was so far from the vain idiot she thought she met back on the train. And though Hermione had grown fond of Ron, she never truly saw him as smart or capable. But he devised a plan to make the flock separate. He gave Hermione (thankfully) the lower third, Ron took the upper, and with the two of them playing distractions Harry was to get the key safely.

Though even the best of plans go awry...

"Harry!" Ron gasped as his flock dove for Harry when he got too close to grabbing the blue-winged key.

They clustered around him, their razor like wings cutting his flesh, his screams echoed off the walls and she could barley see him through the dense cloud of metal and wings. Hermione closed her eyes and grabbed her wand, nearly losing control of the broomstick under her. _Shit!_ "Immobilis!" she shrieked pointing above her.

Five or six keys dropped from the cloud, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. She paused her broom in the air and kept casting the immobilization charm hitting them in groups of five or six. She didn't know how many keys she immobilized, but soon, Harry wasn't the only threat, and Ron was no longer a threat. A small fraction of the keys crowding Harry and over half came of Ron's descended upon her like a dark cloud.

It all happened so fast. She lost sight of the boys as they swarmed her, what looked like soft feathers were razor sharp, she could barely keep her eyes open as they cut away at her flesh and she shrieked in agony. She tried to move her wand, but the swarm knocked her about and it clattered to the floor, far, far below her. Was this how she died?

"Immobilis!" Ron's voice shouted somewhere in the distance. "Do you have it yet?!"

"Almost!" Harry called.

"F-focus on Harry!" she cried, knowing she didn't sound like she meant it. "He needs to get the key!"

A few more shouts of "immoblis" and Hermione's swarm moved to Ron.

"Ron!" she shrieked.

She moved downward to fetch her wand when suddenly the swarms fell to the ground, like metallic hail clattering to the ground. She looked up and saw Harry covered in cuts holding the prize key. He did it! He got the key!

"I _really_ hope there isn't a scaling in difficulty," Hermione gasped for air as the two boys joined her on the ground.

"What could possibly be worse than a great three-headed dog, murder plant and attacking keys?" Ron asked as Harry unlocked the door.

"Chess!" Ron clapped observing the checkered board and giant stone pieces set up on the board. "This is perfect!"

"Unless we take the place of pieces that have to be sacrificed," Hermione breathed. "But I'm pants at chess, so I trust you."

"Me too," Harry nodded. "We'll follow your every order."

Ron tapped his chin and his eyes scanned the board as he muttered to himself. He fell silent, his face grim and he seemed to go through a thousand scenarios in only a few minutes.

"Okay," Ron snapped his fingers. "I got it!"

Ron assigned each of them pieces and they waited for the game to begin. White went first, and Ron called upon a black pawn that dragged the white piece off the board, both massive stone pieces wrestling. Losing to one of these pieces could mean grave injury and even death. Hermione wondered how many times she was certain death would come for them this past year, or even this past night. She would have to swallow that fear and trust Ron...Eleven years wasn't nearly long enough, but she took a deep breath. If Ron gave the order, she would sacrifice herself for the win. They needed Ron's expertise, and it _had_ to be Harry if it were Voldemort, but Hermione decided she was expendable. Better her than them...Who would miss her?

The game progressed, more pieces dragging others off the board. Ron surveyed the board for a cool minute between each order. For a moment, Hermione that they had it. They had claimed far more white pieces than the white team had of theirs, but then, the White Queen took to the board, and she was unstoppable. Every move Ron ordered he looked less and less sure of himself. Both Harry and Hermione developed trembles in their steps as Ron sent them out to claim pieces.

 _You're expendable, be okay with this..._ she told herself as she claimed a white bishop.

She turned back to Ron, who's face paled, his ruddy lips pressed into a hard line as he drew in a long deep breath. "Harry," he said, his voice somehow both strong and trembling. "I'm going to move to be claimed by the queen. That'll get her out of the way so you can claim the king."

"Ron, no!" both Harry and Hermione cried.

"I have to. This is chess, sacrifices must be made."

"I-I'll do it!" Hermione cried. "I'm in line to the position you're going! You're needed, don't do this!"

"You're needed too, Hermione," Ron fear and compassion in his glistening eyes. "And I will put the king in check. The queen won't have any interest in you if you take that position. We have to end this game now. We don't know how far Snape will have gotten. This-" he breathed and the tremble returned. "Needs to happen."

"But-" Hermione argued and Ron had taken his place.

The white queen marched up to Ron with malice carved in her stone face. She grabbed Ron, yanking him off his horse with an excessive amount of force and Hermione was certain she heard a sickening snap as Ron cried out in pain before being tossed from the board like a ragdoll.

"Ron!" they both cried.

Harry turned his gaze from Ron to the king. He marched up to it, and she could feel the fire coming off him. Ron's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain...Hermione turned her eyes to Ron, he was down, but still breathing, wheezing unsteady breaths, but still breathing. _Please don't die..._

"Checkmate!" Harry shouted, enraged.

The game was finally over and Hermione rushed over to Ron.

"Hermione!" Harry grabbed her arm. "We have to go! You heard Ron...this can't be in vain..."

Hermione turned to face him, tears sprang to his eyes.

"He's alive," Hermione waving her wand and muttering a couple of spells. One to stay the bleeding, and the other to patch his ribs, good enough until Madam Pomfrey could tend to him. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered. "Let's go!"

The next room was a familiar challenge. Hermione never thought in a million years she would see that towering, lumpy goliath of a mountain troll again. She steadied her breath and grabbed her wand, but he didn't rampage, he didn't even acknowledge them.

"I think he's been charmed..." Hermione whispered. "But I'm not sure..."

"Whatever it is," Harry whispered. "We should go before it's totally awake."

They moved on to the next room and both nearly leapt as purple flames shot from the ground reaching the ceiling barring the way back. Opposite them was a black fire barring the way forward. Thirteen bottles of different sized lined a shelf along the wall to their side, and Hermione realized with a pang that this was her father's challenge. When did he go from trusted ally and friend to Dumbledore to Death Eater? Did he know when he made this challenge that he'd be betraying everyone he knew? Or was it sometime after?

Hermione took a slip of paper with trembling hands and tried not to cry as she combed over the familiar hand writing. What she'd give to go back, to relive their good moments...she knew their days were numbered, if she had known earlier, if she had been less resistant with him...could she have changed his mind? Could she change his mind now? Or was he too far gone?

 _You don't have time for this!_ she chastised herself and read through the puzzle. She could mourn the loss of what she had with her father if she survived. They had to stop Voldemort.

"The small one," Hermione said in a broken voice to a rather confused looking Harry.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked and Hermione realised she hadn't explained a thing, nor allowed him to read the puzzle.

"This bottle," she handed it to him. "Will allow you to go through the black flames to the next, and hopefully final challenge...but there's only enough of one of us to go through..."

"Is there one to let you go back?" Harry asked.

"This one," she said pointing. "Back at the chess game I thought I was fine stopping...but seeing _his_ task, reading his hand writing...Harry, what if I can change his mind?"

"You should go back, Hermione..." Harry said.

"But..."

"No, Hermione, listen to me," he held her shoulders. "We don't have time, we need to act now. And I need Dumbledore. Go get Ron, fly to the owlery and get Dumbledore!"

"But...he's..." she tried to find the words.

"He's not going to change his mind. We both know that...and if I send you in...can you _really_ do what's necessary?"

"What's necessary?!" Hermione cried, tears springing to her eyes. "There _has_ to be another way..."

"And if there isn't?" his stare seemed to burn through her soul.

Hermione bit her lip, she wanted to drop, to cry herself to sleep and never wake. There was no right answer here. What was worse was that she knew Harry was right. Ron needed medical care, and Harry needed Dumbledore if it was Voldemort there. She nodded before throwing her arms around him. "If it is him, bring him back alive...you're a good person, Harry. Killing anyone would destroy you...and I-I need him to be okay...it's stupid, I know..."

"If I'd ever known my dad," Harry breathed. "But I found out he were working for Voldemort...I think I would be just like you. I think Ron would too. It's not stupid. It's human."

Hermione bit her lip harder and nodded not trusting her voice not to crack, but she did have one more peice to say. "You're a great wizard, you're going to go on to do great things. The Dark-Voldemort will have nothing on you. I'll go now. You've got this!"

Hermione and Harry downed their perspective potions and Hermione turned back with a heavy heart hoping that she was right about Voldemort being unable to touch him. Time was of the essence.

* * *

Ron was by no means heavy, but Hermione had trouble moving him, nearly dragging him over her shoulders, his feet trailed behind them and Hermione hoped she wasn't doing more damage to him. The letter was on the way, all she had to do now was get Ron to the hospital wing, which was surprisingly more difficult, even with the adrenaline driving her to move forward. The had finally made their way down to the entrance hall, Hermione trying to remain steady.

 _Shit!_ Around the corner she saw two tall men speaking in hushed tones. One was a man with a long beard and clad in purple...Dumbledore! He'd come after all! And very quickly. Did he know before?

"So many letters," Dumbledore sighed. "Yours, Minerva's and now Hermione's. You were right to summon me back when you did. And don't punish yourself, you were also right to wait for me. I must go, time is of the essence. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

He turned, peering at them over his half-moon, his blue eyes twinkling in the light knowingly, but an urgency could be found in his in his posture. The second man came from the shadows, staring at her rather stunned.

"Hermione..."

Hermione collapsed, unsure if it was exhaustion or relief that caused it. But she crumpled under Ron's weight and tears sprang to her eyes as a familiar form knelt beside her and placed his hand on her head.

"D-Dad?" she whimpered.

"I'm more than capable of handling things myself, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I trust you can see these two to the hospital wing?"

Before Dumbledore was even finished speaking her father had conjured a stretcher, placed Ron on it and helped Hermione to her feet. "Time. Go."

Dumbledore flew off like a shot, his speed surprising for such an old man, leaving nothing but a swishing of purple robes behind him.

"Oh, Hermione," her father said in a soft voice taking her face in his hands. "Thank god, you're okay. My poor baby girl, if I thought..." he didn't finish his sentence, instead he drew her into a hug, patiently running on hand over the top of her head as she sobbed uncontrollably into his abdomen.

 _He was innocent! He didn't betray them all!_ Hermione had never been so happy to be wrong. She thought she'd had a handle on it until morning, but now seeing him, hearing his voice...she thought she had no life to go back to, no one to miss her...but now she was held, safe, warm, cared for...that simple reminder mixed with the relief sent her to pieces.

"Let's get you two looked after," he said lifting her. "Then I imagine I owe you some answers..."

Hermione sniffed and nodded, not trusting that she'd be able to keep it together if she tried to speak again. They made continued their way down to the hospital wing, and the mixture of relief and exhaustion she'd felt since coming upon Dumbledore and her father in the entrance hall won over the adreneline that pushed her through and she fell asleep.

* * *

"I cannot get Snape calling you 'his poor baby girl' out of my head!" Ron chuckled. "It's so out of character I get chills thinking of it!"

"Jerk!" Hermione rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at Ron. "I thought you were unconscious!"

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron whined. "I'm injured!"

"You're being released too!" she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her as well and the two broke into a short lived laughter.

"I wish he was being released too," Ron said looking in the direction of Harry's bed.

"Me too," Hermione nodded.

Pomfrey held both Hermione and Ron for two nights, and they watched Dumbledore put Harry in a bed that first night covered in cuts and abrasions before fetching Pomfrey. However, unlike Hermione and Ron, Harry didn't regain consciousness. Two nights and nothing...Pomfrey promised he'd be fine, but Hermione and Ron had difficulty trusting her when Harry was so, so fragile in that bed, even surrounded by the tokens of well-wishers. She just wanted him to wake.

_I should have somehow been there to help...I don't know how...  
_

"You two look grim for two first years about to re-earn their freedom," Pomfrey commented. "He will wake. Your little friend is in the best care."

Hermione imagined how much Harry would loathe to have been referred to as their 'little friend', Ron must have been imagining the same thing as a weak smirk found his lips.

Pomfrey examined both of them, Hermione still didn't understand why she was kept as long as she was, Ron had taken much more serious injuries, and it was curious the two had the same sentence...sentence, stay might have been a better word? Though Hermione knew why some people called Pomfrey 'the Warden'...How could Hermione have never noticed how overbearing that woman was? Well, she supposed she had one theory.

"You are both cleared for release," she told them. "Don't go doing something stupid again!"

"Madam, yes, Madam!" Ron and Hermione sang.

Ron and Hermione changed into their robes and left the hospital wing determined to believe everything would be fine.

* * *

"I'm so sorry! I didn't...I...You were..." Hermione sobbed collapsing along a wall before burying her face in her knees.

"Hermione, love," Severus sat down next to her placing his hand on the top of her head. "It's all over now, it'll be alright..." he didn't exactly believe the words himself, Voldemort returned...as a fraction of himself leeching off the life force of others to be sure, but he was making moves again. However, her current ordeal was over, at least for now.

Before he could think of anything else to say, she spoke between sobs. She told him what he could only imagine was _everything_. She thought he'd erased her memory because she found out about something he didn't want her too, that was right, but after the incident with Potter's broomstick, and her scanning the crowd to find him moving his lips, she thought he was trying to kill him...and she was the one to set the fire...it was only a coincidence that she stopped the right party, Quirrell. That she was particularly torn up about. She outlined spying on him in the forest and a million other circumstances over the year. He had to admit, he would have assumed his guilt as well.

"I thought you were trying to get the stone for...how could I ever have thought that for a moment?"

"I'm not sure where to start..." he breathed. "Perhaps by first admitting I'm the one that should be apologizing."

Hermione stared at him with surprise. She sat next to the wall on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and digging her nails into her hands again. Perhaps for the first time their nerves were equally wrecked. He didn't expect her to trust him again, but if he told her...he didn't know, but he did owe her that much.

Hermione shook her head "But I thought you..."

"Shh," he moved her hair from her face before wiping her eyes. "I know. I know..." he took a deep breath. "Hermione, you never would have thought that if I hadn't placed a memory charm on you. I truly thought I was doing what was best for you...I never imagined the damage it would do...thinking you were raised by a...and having to chose between what you know is right and your family. It's not a position I envy, and one I am truly sorry I put you in such a position. And you will never be put in that position again."

Hermione simply nodded, perhaps not trusting her own voice. She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, sadness and regret; tears pooled in her large brown eyes, caught in her eyelashes and on her fell down cheeks. That haunted look...she was far too young to know the kind of regret that warranted. Yet, she spent nearly a whole year try to cover for him, to protect her friends...just wondering who she should betray if she had to chose. The poor girl...

"I'll start with Hallowe'en, I suppose..." he explained going after Quirrell, the repeated threats to her from that night forward, her insistence that she prevent Quirrell and his panicked decision to modify her memory, trying to use a countercurse on Potter's broom, adding that was why he refereed the other match, noting that she probably found that suspicious at the time and the conversation in the forest.

"After chasing Quirrell away from the corridor that afternoon I immediately wrote the headmaster to summon him back, you three knowing made the matter much more urgent. I was to meet him in the entrance hall as soon as he returned," he cupped her tiny face in his hands. "Had I _any_ idea you were going to go down that night, I would have come for you. If anything happened to you, well, I don't know what I'd do."

"Sleep at night?" she offered with a squeak.

"I doubt it," he sighed throwing an arm around her shoulders."Not with half the students enrolled in your house, anyway."

Hermione gave a weak laugh. When was the last time he'd heard that child laugh? Sure, it was a feeble attempt to end a hard conversation with no real ending on either of their parts, but it was something. Baby steps, she could bounce back from this. Resilient was never a word he'd have thought to use to describe Hermione, but he could see it now. Things would never be the same, but she had a chance of reaching something close to how she was before.

"You know," he ventured acknowledging one last thing he meant to get to. "I don't blame you. I understand how it looked to you and why I would have been the last person you wanted to turn to. However, _promise_ me that you'll come to me if you ever stumble across a plot like this again. I don't want you endangering yourself."

"Is school looking to guard another extremely dangerous artifact?"

"Promise me, Hermione," he said.

"I know this doesn't come easy for you, Dad," Hermione's voice steadied and her posture relaxed. "But _trust me,_ if I never get involved in something like this again it'll be too soon."

"A sentiment I share whole-heartedly, I assure you," he sighed. "But that isn't what I asked, now is it?"

"I..." she sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad, honest I am, but..." she turned her eyes to the ground and her muscles tensed once more. "You messed with my memory. I know why you did it, and I do believe you'd take it back if you could...but, I think it'll be a while before I can make a promise like that..."

 _Given everything, that's surprisingly level headed for a child,_ he thought and took her hands before she could continue mutilating them absent-mindedly and spoke. "Yes, I imagine we do have to re-build trust."

A silence passed between them, Hermione staring blankly at the ground, deep in thought.

"This is a bit off topic," Hermione ventured, but he was as relieved as she was. "But I've been meaning to ask all year..."

"You've been meaning to ask?" he repeated after a silence.

"Before you met Harry," she breathed. "You decided you couldn't stand him. Why?"

"It's quite a long story, Hermione," he said. "You'll have to forgive that there are details that I both don't wish to revisit, nor do I think you're old enough to handle. I imagine you put together a while ago that I had you working on James Potter's disciplinary cases so you could have an idea of his character before his son attended school. The ones I had you copy were the _tamer_ of his lot's deeds. There was an entire year left out for that reason. I realize now that was the wrong way to go about it, but the truth is James Potter destroyed my life, and I wasn't about to let his son do the same to you."

To his surprise she nodded. "I understand, but ( _Should have seen this_ _coming!_ ) Harry's nothing like his father. I know he's said somethings that weren't very nice to you, but from his point of view, he felt like he was being attacked and had no clue why. And I'm certain if you gave him a chance, you'd find he's incapable of even the 'tamer' things his father did. And with the wreck that I am, you should already know we're not always carbon copies of our parents, Dad."

"You're not a wreck, Hermione, and the _last_ thing I want you to be is an exact copy," he sighed and lumped form in his throat under her imploring stare. "If you're vouching for the boy, I'll give him and his little sidekick a chance."

_I don't like it, but I would have agreed to anything you asked after this year..._

* * *

Weeks went by and Harry had returned from the hospital awake and in higher spirits than either Hermione or Ron had been upon their release. Initially at least. That changed when Harry told them about his encounter with Quirrell, Voldemort attached to the back of his head and how Harry's touch put him in agony. Harry described the scene in detached vivid detail. It was self-defence, and almost accidental, but that haunted look...she knew he couldn't linger on it. Hermione would have gone through the whole year of suspecting the man who raised her five times over before living through what Harry did.

"I swear," Harry said. "I can't believe you were right all along. I should have put it together long before then!"

"He had us all fooled," Hermione shrugged. _But I should have known better..._ "Has the stone really been destroyed?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Dumbledore says Nicholas Flammel and his wife wanted it that way, and that they were tired of being alive..said 'death is just one more part of life to the organized mind', erm, or something like that."

"That's bloody mental!" Ron gasped. "How can they-?"

"Everyone they knew and loved died a very long time ago," Hermione ventured. "I can't imagine it'd have been easy."

"Dumbledore made it sound a little less tragic," Harry shifted in his chair. "Oh, and I found out why your dad hates me so much."

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "My dad told me. He didn't give the details, but I got the broad strokes."

"Do I get to hear either rendition of the story?" Ron pouted after a silence.

"Hell no," Hermione shook her head. "At least not from me."

"Erm," Harry looked down at his breakfast. "I brought it up because I thought Hermione might want to know, but if she already knows, and isn't willing to share...I don't reckon I should either."

"Thank you," Hermione bowed her head.

"Grades are posted today," Ron mumbled picking at his plate. "I think I did well, but my brothers are so good at this stuff, I don't know...I feel like rubbish next to them."

"You're not rubbish, Ron," Hermione groaned. "An insufferable prat, sure, but not rub-wait! grades are out today?! Oh, dear god! I think I'm going to be sick!"

"You'll both be fine," Harry sighed before turning to Hermione. "What reason have you to be even slightly nervous?"

"Oh, god..." Hermione pushed away her toast and burying her head on the table. "I _know_ I choked on the practicals! Kill me, Ron, do it now before the whole school sees I'm a bloody failure!"

"Are you completely mental?" Ron asked. "I'd bet any money you're top of our class. Come off it!"

Ron was right. Hermione had achieved all Outstanding's and a single Exceeds Expectations in Potions, which Ron teased her about, forgetting about the assortment of Acceptables under his own name. Despite the single E, Hermione had been, as Ron predicted, top of her year. Despite the hell of a year, it still filled her with pride. All her hard work paid off! Though the bitter voices grumbling about her being a teacher's daughter undercut it...If she could copy this performance in Japan then she could be sure it was completely _her_ victory.

"Don't listen to those jerks," Fred said finding them in a crowd.

"Yeah," George appeared on her other side. "You were top witch _and_ you stopped You-Know-Who from getting that stone!"

" _Harry_ stopped the Dark Lord from getting the stone," Hermione sighed. " _Ron_ got us passed the chess set. Listen to the rumours, I was incidental."

"I-I only got there by luck," Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Luck and you two."

"Come off it, you two!" Ron groaned. "Are you two fishing for compliments or did the Dursleys and Snape warp you so badly?"

"Stop comparing him to them!" Hermione hissed.

Fred slipped an arm around Ron. "You three are incredible! The whole school is abuzz about it!"

"Dumbledore's going to _have_ to acknowledge you in the year-end feast tonight!" George laughed.

The green and silver decorations in the hall dulled the bright mood of the Weasleys, Harry and Neville. Hermione wished she cared, maybe it was because her father was the head of another house? Maybe it was because she thought house divisions were stupid in the first place? Years of seeing hostilities between houses from the outside? She wondered if Mahoukatoro would place her in a house...

Dumbledore gave his year end speech, congratulated Slytherin to luke warm applause and then took the entire Great Hall by surprise by saying he wanted to give out some last minute points to four exemplary students.

"I have been told," he chuckled peering at her father over his glasses. "That rewarding students for risking their lives was a terrible idea, so with that concerned party in mind, I must warn you not to recklessly endanger your lives. That will not earn you anything but trouble. But that is not what these students did. These students did what they did in the interest of others, not themselves. They risked their lives for the greater good and I believe they should be recognized for it.

"Oh, but before I do so, for the sake of that concerned party-" he glanced at her father again "-Should anyone believe the safety of themselves or others is at risk, they should first report to any one of us. Forgive us, but I must repeat the adage you've all heard from your parents, find an adult when things are serious. Now for the fun part!..."

Dumbledore awarded Ron fifty points for beating McGonagall's chess set, which Percy, Fred and George all beamed with pride to the applause with loud "That's my youngest brother!" The tips of Ron's ears turned pink and she expected him to sink under the praise, but despite the furious blushing, he grinned and thanked everyone praising him. He had his moment in the sun, and Hermione finally understood why he saw what he saw in the mirror.

Hermione was the next to be mentioned and she felt a thousand eyes on her, her stomach churned and her blood froze in her veins. She took in deep breaths, clasped her hands and sank her nails into the gaps between her fingers trying to stay the pounding of her heart. She nearly died, why did those damn eyes bother her so much? She didn't even hear what Dumbledore was saying. Was that applause sincere? Sarcastic? Pity? How could she know? Why did she care? She prayed he would move on to Harry. How could Ron stand this? Hermione lowered her head to the table and shut her eyes.

"And to Harry Potter," Dumbledore said after what seemed to be forever. He rewarded Harry one-hundred points for his bravery in the face of insurmountable odds, selflessness and determination. Nearly die at the hands of the man who murdered your parents and get points for your school house. Hermione raised her head now that it was safe and saw that Harry wasn't as bitter at the idea as she was. Harry was smiling, taking in the applause and congratulations from those around him. He looked at Hermione and she smiled at him as she joined the applause. For once Harry seemed completely at ease with himself and the attention. She hoped that ease would stay. If anyone deserved to learn to like themselves, it was Harry.

"And I did believe I mentioned four students," Dumbledore said lifting his hands to quieten the crowd. "I would finally like to reward ten points to Neville Longbottom..." For trying to stop them, but Hermione understood why, to reinforce Neville standing up for himself, even if it's his friends.

But what the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Neville was going to react to the spotlight just like she did. Neville was fragile he couldn't...

Neville was pink-faced and a bit embarrassed, but he beamed as other Gryffindors pat him on the back and congratulated him. They even seemed sincere! Hermione took his hands and smiled at him congratulating him before apologizing for the perhaps fiftieth time since that night. Neville's face became more pink, she let go of his hands and clapped. If other's weren't sincere she would be, but she was happy that the applause didn't seem insincere.

Gryffindor won the cup with the new additions and the Hall erupted with applause and cheering, thrilled to finally have another house win. If Hermione failed to be happy about that, she would damn well be happy for her friends! Which, she was. They seemed so happy, at ease, she watched Harry and Ron joke around with the twins. Neville was finally being spoken to like a humanbeing by his classmates. It was beautiful to see him sitting up right and finishing his sentences when speaking to others. Was it dumb that she was proud of her friend? She was proud of all of them. Hermione could have watched the moment forever but was taken aback by Ron.

"You're awful quiet," he said. "Still thinking about that E?"

They all burst into laughter and Hermione didn't know whether it was with or at her. She let out a fake nervous laugh, trying to look unbothered. "It will haunt me eternally!" she said in a dramatic and sarcastic voice.

They all laughed and this time she found warmth behind their eyes and in their smiles. A whole damn year to realise it, but she knew then that they actually _liked_ her. Not pitied, not tolerated, but liked. A thought she'd previously considered dumb whenever it crossed her mind.

* * *

"I never did ask," Harry said. "What are you doing this summer?"

The three of them were gathered at the bridge before they had to load into the carriages. Students cheered and laughed in droves, all promising to write, some hugging, older couples embracing and kissing. It was bittersweet, they all would be free for two whole months, but most would only communicate with their friends via letter. The June sun bathed the bridge and both Harry and Ron seemed oddly serene basking in the golden glow.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Can't be spending all summer in Gyffindor Tower as well."

" _Far_ from it!" Hermione beamed, she hadn't told a soul. "I'm going to Japan! _Japan!"_

"Wow," Ron scoffed. "Snape must feel awful about the year to take you to meet your boyfriend."

"First of all," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hiro is _not_ my boyfriend. And second is my dad's not taking me. I'm going on my own! I've never been _anywhere_ on my own before. I'm spending July at the Japanese Wizarding School. Their summer break is only August in Japan."

"More school?!" Ron gasped. "That's mental! Haven't you worked hard enough?"

"I don't reckon you mind that, eh?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.

"Not at all!" she smiled. "I've never seen anything beyond these walls, unless you count that one afternoon to in Diagon Alley. _Nothing can ruin this!_ "

"Well," Ron chuckled. "If you're not too busy you should write us. Fred and George told me to tell you they felt neglected, you should write them too!"

"I'll write them if I have time," she shrugged. "But I'll make time for you!"

"Hermione..." Ron gulped.

"Okay, that was stupid," she shrank. "I'll write all three of you, I just...I know that you feel...erm...next to your brothers...erm...Shit!"

"I think Hermione was trying to say she values you beyond your connection to your family," Harry laughed. "Promise you'll work on your people skills?"

"I'm going to have to in Japan!" she rolled her eyes. "I'll write you too, Harry. Try not to be too miserable at the Dursleys?"

"I've already asked Mum to invite him over for the summer!" Ron beamed. "I can't imagine her saying no!"

"That's brilliant!"she said. "Write me about whatever fabulous misadventure you idiots find yourselves in over the summer?"

"Of course," Harry said. "I can't wait till next year though. Once you come back from Japan alive you might be allowed to take a step or two outside!"

"One can dream, Harry."


	15. Mahoukatoro Interlude  One Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is taken to Mahoukatoro and encounters Muggle Tokyo before the flight. She is both excited and scared to be away from her father for the first time.

"Are you absolutely _certain_ about this?" asked Severus watching his daughter pack.

" _You_ signed me up for this, Dad," Hermione sighed making eye-contact and setting a stack of note books gingerly in her suitcase.

"I know, love," he leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "But I didn't consult you beforehand. I wouldn't blame you. I can say you changed your mind, that you fell ill, that you-"

"Have never looked forward to anything more in my life?" Hermione stared up at him, her face and tone both serious, her eyes seeming to stare into his very soul. "It's thirty-one days, Dad. One month for the next five years, I can do that. It'll all be fine."

Hermione was nearly twelve, but looked younger with her small stature, round olive face under a mountain of bushy hair and large brown eyes that so often stared at him imploringly as of late. This wasn't the first time they had this conversation since school let out. He didn't like the idea of sending her out to another continent by herself. At least not now that the threat to her has passed. She'd been through a lot this past year, but she was still a child, _his_ child...sending her away went from a solution to a problem to the problem.

Perhaps he worried too much, but looking at Hermione he could hardly imagine her fairing well. Despite being sorted into Gryffindor, she had a fragile and nervous disposition, one that made her prone to illness and nasty behaviours like digging her nails into her hands or biting her lip until she drew blood, she _hated_ crowds, she obsessed over her work to the point that she'd even forget to eat or sleep. Being on her own in _Japan_ was not going to helpful in that respect. He couldn't imagine it would do her any good at all.

 _"You want me to write a referral for her to go to Mahoukatoro?" McGonagall smirked. "I'm more than happy to, but I have to say, Severus, I can't believe_ you _agreed to let her go. You keep such a tight grip on the poor girl, this will be so good for her!"_

He hoped that the wizened head mistress was right about it being good for her, but he doubted it. And had Hermione not said things like _that,_ he would have put a stop to the nonsense long before now. But...she did look forward to it so. The girl floated around their living quarters for the past week with a rare gleam in her eye and a smile on her face. And Headmaster Yamato assured him, multiple times, that she would be perfectly safe. He wanted to believe it.

"Actually," he corrected. "Japanese wizards attend school until they're twenty. The last three years are more targeted toward a career path, but they are mandatory. So you'd be there for the next seven Julys. It's probably a strange custom for a British witch, so if you don't want to commit to such a program, I understand."

"I _want_ to go, Dad," Hermione sighed. "Even after knowing that, I still want to go. Am I angry that you signed me up for summer school until I'm twenty without even talking to me? I mean, I should be, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed, but I'm going to _Japan_. Japan! The idea is exhilarating!"

That girl would have been leaping in excitement if she were simply going to London. Her little quill-mate might have made Mahoukatoro preferable, but unlike the other students at Hogwarts, the idea of leaving filled her with an almost incomparable joy...or a case of the nerves. Hermione had some trouble picking a mood and sticking with it.

"I had a feeling you might say that," he sighed handing her a small, black leather bound journal. "I've enchanted this so we can communicate without the week, or sometimes longer, delay from message by bird half way across the globe. I expect you to write me _daily_."

"Daily?" Hermione blinked. "But there's like a-"

"Nine hour time difference?" he asked. "I'm aware. If you write me in the evening, I'll be receiving it in the morning. Completely manageable."

Hermione nodded and gingerly took the book. "Yessir..."

"When you're older you'll understand why I'm asking this," he said resting a hand on the top of her head. "Japan isn't exactly the continent, now is it? If something were to happen, it could be week before I hear about it."

"But what do you expect to happen?" Hermione sighed sitting on her bed. "Mahoukatoro is almost as safe as Hogwarts, and Yamato-sama Sensei has assured you he'd be keeping an eye on me. I couldn't find danger even if I wanted to."

"We both know that isn't true, Hermione Elizabeth," he countered. "The danger you put yourself into time and time again this past year proves you can. _You nearly died, Hermione."_

"I know..." she sighed tilting her head and offering a weak smile. "I'll write every evening, Dad. But I promise, you won't have anything to worry about."

"That's not exactly a promise you can make now, is it?" he asked sitting next to her and resting his hand on her head again.

"I, erm," she took a deep breath. "No, I guess not."

"But you _can_ promise you won't be intentionally sniffing around anything dangerous while you're there."

"That I can," she gave a weak laugh. "I have absolutely no intention of a repeat performance of May."

"That makes both of us," he got up and scanned the tiny bedroom. "Now, today is the last day I can send Archimedes out in time to cancel are you absolutely certain that you want to do this?"

"Yes, Dad," Hermione still gave a weak smile, but he could hear the exasperation in her voice, and he felt she was straining not to roll her eyes. "I want to go!"

* * *

"You look pale," her father observed as Hermione ran through her list.

"I'm not sick, Dad," she sang with an eye roll.

"Let me check," he strode over to her and pressed a hand to her forehead. "You do seem a bit cold..." he moved his hand to her cheeks and neck. "Now, I know we've talked about the eyerolling, Hermione."

 _Loads of times,_ she thought but resisted to roll her eyes again. "I'm fine, Dad, honestly!"

"The tone, Hermione Elizabeth," he said in a rather detached automatic voice as he continued to check for any excuse to say she was too ill to go.

Hermione's flesh was cold, and she probably did look pale as she barely slept the last two nights from a mixture of excitement and nerves. She really did want to go, but now that it the day was upon her, she was also worried. What if Hiro didn't like her when they'd actually met? What if she couldn't pronounce any of the words correctly? Or messed up with her chopsticks in the dining hall? What if all the teachers hated the girl who got into the program by pure nepotism? What if Kaori and all the other girls hated her? What if Hiro didn't like her? Wait, that was the first concern she had... _I'm not fussing over some boy I've never met!_ Hermione told herself. But if his reception of her was anything different than that in the letters she received every week or so than it would devastate her... _No, you idiot! You're going to Japan! I want to go and I am thrilled about this! And Hiro is_ not _the only reason I am!_

"Apparating so far will be taxing on both of us, so you'll likely feel a bit off colour when you arrive," her father said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You'll want to be prepared for that. Do you remember last year when we went to get your school things and you asked me if Diagon Alley is always so crowded?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded cautiously.

"Muggle Tokyo is much, much worse. Don't talk to _anyone_ if they don't ask for you by name. It'll be a bit better where it's night, but it'll still be crowded enough that it'll be very easy to get lost. Of all places to send you beforehand, muggle Tokyo!" he spat before continuing. "Yamato described himself and his daughter-in-law in his letter to you, yes? Good, she'll be taking you into her home where Headmaster Yamato will bring you to the school. You'll be jet-lagged, you should take a sleeping draught upon arrival so you can be more aware during your orientation the next morning. It's going to be much, much hotter than you're used to..."

Her father continued on like this for a while. It was as if he were trying to address every possible problem that could come up while she was away. She knew why, he was usually paranoid, and her involvement in claiming the stone before Voldemort could have only justified his paranoia in his mind. He couldn't convince her to stay home with him, so this, and the instant-messaging journal, was the best he could do.

"You will...?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Not speak to a soul in Muggle Tokyo, listen to Yamato-sama Sensei and the other professors, not stray from my guides, follow their customs (she was so looking forward to taking part in them that she didn't have to be told!), focus on my studies and write you every evening after classes."

"Just in case you get separated from myself or the Yamatos," her father sighed. "If you perform magic in self-defense no one will hold you accountable. Be ready to do so if you need to. Remember those five spells I taught you?"

"Expelliarmus, Protego, the temporary blinding hex, muffilatio, and stupefy."

"And if you run into trouble?"

"Sheild myself from attacks, disarm my attacker, blind them, ensure they can't hear me and run like hell," she recited. "All else fails attempt to stun them and scream 'fire' to summon witnesses."

He did not seem even slightly relieved by her recitation of his protocols. He stared at her, his skin paler than usual and his grip on her shoulder tightened, as if he were the one going away to a foreign country for the first time. Hermione recognized that this was not just her first time being away from her father, but his first time being away from her probably since she had been born. Given his paranoia, it can't have been easy. And she couldn't shake the feeling that if wasn't for the guilt he felt he would have never allowed this. This would be good for both of them...she hoped.

"But of course I won't need any of that," she offered, forcing a smile. "Everything is going to turn out _fine,_ Dad. I'll write you the _instant_ I'm at the school. _Nothing_ is going to happen." _I might be more convincing if I believed it..._ Every instance of her father describing the world as cold and disinterested at best and cruel and dangerous at its worst filled her mind. Even after having made friends, some part of her still believed the rhetoric he'd fed her her whole life.

"One can hope," he said, unconvinced before placing a hand on her head. "I'm still not convinced you're ready for something like this..."

 _I'm not sure it's me who's not ready, Dad..._ she thought but looked down realizing her body language wasn't exactly projecting confidence. She was digging at her hands again. She immediately unclasped her hands and straightened her spine before attempting another assuring smile. "You didn't raise an idiot, Dad. I am taking every necessary precaution. Nothing will go wrong. I have everything _completely under control._ " _I have to..._

"Assurances I've heard before, love," he sighed. "But as much as I'd like to, I don't believe I can keep you here forever. One o'clock, it'll be ten in Tokyo. You have absolutely everything you need?"

"Yes, Dad, I have everything I need." It was only the hundredth time he asked that day. "Are you going to be okay?"

This time he offered a weak smile. "Of course I will be fine. It's you I'm worried about. At least I'll get to see you off. Are you ready?"

* * *

"I am _never_ going to get used to that!" Hermione groaned emerging from the alley way behind the building trying to shake the spinning. "I swear-"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Bright lights hanging from poles and wires or casting out from a hundred windows bathed the packed streets in artificial lights of colours she wasn't even sure she had seen before. People walked about, almost shoulder to shoulder, she didn't know how some of them didn't knock into each other. Voices echoed in the square, wires hummed and the cars careened down the street, starting and stopping sometimes accompanied by the long drone of a horn. Was this how muggles lived? This... this was horrifying. So much commotion.

The world spun around her and her heart pounded in her ears. Pins and needles stabbed at her feet as she tried to move forward, and she couldn't stop herself from jumping the crosswalk beeped over head. She didn't exactly long the familiar grey walls she grew up with in, but she was close to it. She'd never seen so many people, lights, had been unaware that cars made sounds and she was certain she had forgotten all her Japanese.

 _It's just a bit of noise, you coward!_ Hermione thought bitterly and braced herself for her father's gloating 'I told you so's which she'd be stuck with until they reached Yamato-san's.

"It's alright, love," her father said taking her hand. "It's just a crossing light. Mrs. Yamato's building can't be far. Come along."

 _No "I told you so?"_ Hermione thought quietly following him, clinging to his arm as if she were six rather than nearly twelve. _Who are you and what have done with my father?!_

Hermione and her father weaved through the tightly pack sidewalks, Hermione muttering "Sumimasen!" with a bow the countless times she bumped into someone, or someone bumped into her. She wanted the pavement to swallow her when she felt the eyes of the locals on her, probably beholding the ridiculous foreign girl with contempt. _Don't be so narcissistic, they have more important things to worry about than a stupid gaijin girl!_

They stood in the entry way of the apartment building and Hermione double checked her letter to ensure she pressed the right button. She took in a deep breath, pressed the button, and to her chagrin the loud buzzing drone gave her a start. She nearly died to a giant cerebus, devil's snare and murder keys (she refused to call them anything else!) Were chimes, buzzing and crowds really going to frighten her?

Her father rested a comforting hand on her head and sighed. "How are you feeling, little girl?"

"Fine. I-I'm fine," she said, barely above a whisper. _Get a hold of yourself! Shit!  
_

"In that case," he sighed. "I _did_ tell you this would all be quite overwhelming."

" _There_ it is!" Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smirk. "I was wondering when you'd start. For a moment I was convinced _you_ were a changeling."

"I'm not a _complete_ monster, love," he said."Of course I was going to wait until you were able to breathe again. Though I see I failed to put a stop to those ridiculous rumours before you started. I'm sorry you had to hear them. At least that won't be a concern for you here."

"Just tell me I wasn't bought and sold for a single head or lettuce and I'll be thrilled!" she laughed. _And that I wasn't plucked from a rubbish bin behind a take-away..._

"A testament to the originality of your peers, Hermione," he sighed. "I can't believe the rumour _literally plagiarizing_ a muggle fairy tale is still flying around."

"So no kernel or truth in that one," she laughed. "I knew I was worth at least two heads of lettuce!"

"At least," he agreed mussing her hair.

"Konbenwa!" a small voice greeted with a bow.

They turned to the lady at the door who let them in. Looking exactly like Yamato-sama Sensei described; she was slender, on the taller side for a Japanese woman, with dark brown eyes and long black hair tied in a single braid she slung over her shoulder, looking to be around the right age (mid-thirties). What he didn't describe was her delicate heart shaped face and her inviting smile. She was warm, inviting and so beautiful.

 _You think every new woman or girl you meet is beautiful..._ Hermione scorned herself knowing it came from a place of deep insecurity and probably the little exposure she was allowed to enjoy before starting school.

Hermione and her father bowed in return. She greeted Yamato-san and introduced the two of them.

Yamato Minako lead the two of them into her flat, and Hermione was shocked. Not a mark could be found on the pristine white walls , the wooden floor hadn't a scratch, and her living room opposite a small kitchen separated by a long counter, could have passed for either a miniature library or cat rescue. A cat-tree sat between the gaps of either long, tall shelf and two cats sat on each, while a yellow maine coon perched on the couch and a very fat long haired calico with folded ears ran to greet them before they could even finish taking their shoes off.

Six cats in one small apartment, how did she keep everything so clean? A question Hermione dismissed as soon as she asked herself as the fat calico leapt into her arms, purring. "Kawaii neko!" Hermione squealed rubbing her neck to an amused expression from Yamato Minako and a curious expression from her father.

"Fuku misses Kaori and Hiro. Come in! My father-in-law will pick you up soon," she urged them in. "I'll put on the tea. British people drink black tea normally, yeah?"

"Hi, arigato, Yamato-san," Hermione nodded, following her into the kitchen, letting Fuku's purrs travel through her tense body.

"You're so lucky to teach at the school she boards at," Yamato Minako sighed addressing her father.

"Sumimasen,Yamato-san," he said slowly with a bow. "My Japanese is not..."

"English then?" she said switching to the language with a smile. "We all have to learn English in school...but forgive my bad speaking!"

 _Bad speaking? You're English is on par with my Japanese..._ Hermione gulped, sitting down and still clinging to the cat.

"It's much better than my Japanese," her father shrugged. "I'm-" he abandoned the thought, perhaps uncertain how the language barrier would affect whatever he was about to say.

Hermione watched the two adults make stilted conversation and wondered about that first thing she said to her father before realizing he didn't speak Japanese. Yamato Minako was a muggle, completely detached from her children's world, her husband died years ago, and Hiro and Kaori were gone eleven months of the year, and she never re-married. She seemed sweet, so she thought she must have friends, but looking around the apartment and the six cats, she wondered if all Yamato Minako had were her children. Such a lonely and sad existence.

She wondered if it was the same for her father briefly. He didn't exactly have _friends_ among the staff...and she'd never seen him leave to meet anyone without direct orders from Dumbledore. Was he lonely with only her for company? Hermione pushed the thought from her mind before it could make her feel guilty for leaving. All children left their parents, this was normal, and she wasn't going to have it ruined because she pitied her father for imagined circumstances.

A loud pop interrupted an awkward silence between the three of them, sending Fuku to her perch in a calico blur! The sound was clearly someone apparating into the room, but it still made Hermione leap from her chair and her father throw an arm around her shoulders turning to the new figure in the room.

"Good evening, Ito-san," Yamato Minako beamed before bowing.

"Evening, Minako-chan," replied an elderly Japanese man with a very long white beard, hair and mustache in golden robes. That must've been Yamato-sama Sensei.

 _Shit! First time meeting a superior but it's evening! Do I say Ohayo or Konbenwa?_ Hermione bowed silently wondering if not saying anything was better or worse. The silence continued. Hermione took in a deep breath, still bowed she tried to speak. "O-Kon-hey-benyo! ( _What the_ hell _was_ that?!). Gah! Gomenesai!"

"You're not the first student in the program to be tripped up by that, Hermione," he smiled patiently, his hazel eyes twinkling in a familiar knowing fashion. _Don't call Yamato-sama Sensei Japanese Dumbledore..._ she scolded herself.

"Thank you," she bowed, still feeling humiliated.

Once again, Hermione watched as adults talked about her, but Yamato-sama Sensei's English was much better than Yamato Minako's, so the converstaion was much less stilted. She stood in silence as her father painted her as grateful and hardworking, but also extremely fragile. His thanks for suggesting and allowing her to take part in the program seemingly undercut by what seemed to be his trying to convince the headmaster she was made of glass. Perhaps that was the price she paid for leaving.

"Hermione," her father placed a hand on her head. "Remember everything we've talked about before leaving?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

He held out his other hand with all five fingers, Hermione caught his meaning. He didn't want to advocate she use any of harmful spells in front of the headmaster, but he wanted to know she knew them in case something happened on school grounds. She nodded.

Hermione had expected meeting and speaking with the Yamatos would have made him feel more confident in his decision, but she could still see the apprehension in his face as the time to send her off was at hand. This would have been so much easier if they had said their goodbyes in Britain and she left to meet them on her own. Save the logistics of getting into the country.

"Stay safe, remember to write, and _behave_ ," he instructed before drawing her into a hug.

The two said their goodbyes and Hermione was torn between skipping to Yamato-sama Sensei and begging to go back. After cursing herself for that she approached the old man politely, bowed to Yamato Minako, thanking her and waved good bye to both her and her father before linking her arm into Yamato-sama Sensei's. She felt the now familiar pulling at her navel and with a loud pop, Yamato Minako's immaculate cat filled apartment was replaced with a remote rocky beach under a network of twinkling stars.

She heard the crashing of the waves below and the cry of birds over head. The salt air filled her lungs and it occurred to her, despite growing up in Scotland, Hermione had not once seen the ocean. Waves danced below her, in what seemed like an endless stretch of water and the movement was near entrancing. The blue water beneath the starlit sky, the forest of a million trees she'd never seen before, the rock croppings jutting out of the water...it was all so beautiful.

The warm salt breeze wafted around her, and that with the ocean seemed to be the only movement. Had she ever experienced such a comfortable stillness before?

"How are you with heights?" Yamato-sama asked.

"Heights?" she asked dreamily.

The cawing drew closer and Hermione's serenity vanished. Landing on the beach before them was a giant storm petrels, its massive wings blocking the starlight. It landed lightly, but still disturbed the grass and trees around it. She stared into its massive grey eyes and her heart threatened to burst from her chest. A giant petrel? Why-

Her question was answered when Yamato-sama mounted the great beast's back with surprising ease for a man his age.

_Is it too late to ask to swim? Worst that can happen? Cast out to sea? I'll take it!_

Hermione swallowed and approached with light foot steps. She took Yamato-sama's hand and climbed onto the bird's back behind him and begged for it to be all over. The warm wind Hermione once found nice now roared against her ears with a chill, she felt like she was being slapped by it. The bird's massive wings flapped behind her legs with incredible force, and she couldn't help but cling to the old man in front of her. _Eyes closed, if I don't see it...Nope! It's totally real. I hope we get there soon._

Hermione's prayer's were answered as an opalescent tiered castle perched a top a mountain covered in foliage came into view. She was certain this was the highest point on the island. The bird landed on a clear path. Once Hermione regained her bearings she stood frozen before the scene before her. Was this real?

Stone steps bathed in golden lamplight led up to a Shinto gate ( _Torii,_ she thought she read somewhere) before another set of steps leading up to the castle proper. It was everything she imagined, towering over them, both foreboding and inviting, the untamed forest enveloping them, the fresh mountain air. A stream even trickled down the mountain beside the path. Maybe it was her life as a shut-in, but at that moment, Hermione was certain she could live a thousand years and never see anything so wonderful.

Yamato-sama led her up the stairs under the Shinto chords and talismans hung over the grand arching door. The entrance hall greeted her with spotless wood flooring, ornate rice paper dividers, painted with intricate designs of the ocean, the castle, the island, cherry blossoms and bamboo forests. A set of stairs directly opposite them led up to the distance. Hermione followed in silence as she listened to Yamato-sama recite the more important rules. She would have to read up on them later, she should have been listening, but she simply couldn't believe any of this was real. Being there in Mahoukatoro, it seemed less real than the whole crazy year she had just finished.

 _Oh, dear god,am I Japan-fetishist?_ Hermione pushed the thought from her mind. Loads of people adored other lands and cultures from their own, and they weren't all confined to one small section of castle their whole lives.

"The dormitory for girls is right through there," he pointed down the corridor lit with paper lanterns. She gingerly tiptoed to the door . "We have rooms in the dormitory separated in pairs by year. Your dormmate will be a girl in your year named Okasha Saiyaka. You'll meet Hiro and Kaori for orientation after breakfast."

* * *

Hermione gingerly slid back the door to find a large room, beside the door were a row of shelves with what must've been a hundred pairs of shoes. One row sported black shoes, the other white. _Must be a small group if it's two per girl, that means there's only fifty girls boarding total._ The rest of the room was quite cozy, a long, low black table with several cushions set up around it sat on a red rug in the centre of the room, two higher tables shoved in each corner with four chairs set up around them and two sofas sat opposite each other on either side of a large window, whose sill was also cushioned. _Must be the girls' common room?_

She climbed the stairs quietly and looked for room 217. She found it easily enough as the numbers hung on the side of each sliding door. She knocked first, unsure if her new roommate was still awake, but she could see the warm golden glow of a light through the rice paper.

The door slide open to reveal a girl with dark brown hair in braided twintails, round glasses almost hidden by her fringe, darker olive skin and a shy smile on her face. Releif washed over Hermione, she didn't know what she expected, but Okasha Saiyaka seemed as nervous about this whole affair as she was.

"Sumimasen!" Hermione bowed and then introduced herself.

Okasha Saiyaka nodded and let her into the room.

The room was small, an open window let in starlight and a warm summer breeze. Two futons and two desks sat on either side of the window. The one Okasha Saiyaka sat at was piled high with books and papers. Hermione took the chair opposite her and set down the journal her father gave her, quickly scribbling a message into it while Saiyaka organized her books and papers.

_Dad,_

_Arrived safely. I have to be up for orientation at six local time and already near asleep from the draught. I'll let you know how everything goes tomorrow!_

_Love,_

_Hermione._

She shut the book and turned her attention to her flustered roommate, who nervously laughed. An uncomfortable silence passed, and Hermione had the distinct feeling Saiyaka didn't start too many conversations. Both stared at their bare feet a a grey cat leapt up on to Saiyaka's desk and knocked over her tower of homework.

"Momo!" she groaned getting to her knees.

Hermione leapt to her feet and started to help Saiyaka. "Is everything intact, Okasha-san?" she asked in a small voice once everything was put back in place, in order and colour-coded.

"You can call me Saiyaka if you want," she smiled playing with her braid.

"You can call me Hermione," she smiled back.

The two girls started chatting away the night in hushed voices. Saiyaka's small voice told her she wasn't used to talking about herself. However, with some gentle prodding, she found out Saiyaka grew up in Okinawa, was muggle-born, her parents were still married, and she had an older half-sister named Meiko who was a muggle, and by her account a great beauty of even greater intellect. Hermione wondered if her parents favoured her sister, but pushed it from her mind and insisted she wanted to know about her, not her sister.

With a nervous smile, she continued. Saiyaka loved animals and thought she wanted to be a magizoologist, but she didn't know yet. "Oh, listen to me go on about myself!" she buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry! Please, tell me about yourself."

"Well..." Hermione thought about her mysterious origins, isolated childhood, making top of her year, her misadventures with a troll and through the trapdoor..."There isn't much to tell. Just an over-achieving daughter of a British professor," she shrugged.


	16. Mahoukatoro Interlude One Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes new friends in Mahoukatoro and develops a crush on Hiro while she works a case to capture the elusive Library Bandit with the Mahoukatoro School Paper.

Sunlight poured through the open window and Hermione stretched with a yawn, thrilled that she was still in the small dormitory, in a futon opposite a girl curled up with a fat grey cat. She rose and looked out the window, forest and cleared trails stretched out below her, an almost emerald sheen cast on the ground from the sunlight. She craned her neck to gaze into the ocean far below them, sparkling a radiant blue in the pink and orange sunrise. She had to get dressed, but she wanted to stare out into the picturesque scene below her.

It was all real! Muggle Tokyo, meeting Yamato Minako, being collected by the headmaster himself, the nauseating flight on the back of a massive storm petrel, Sayaika, everything! She could barely contain herself as she looked around her. She would be _meeting_ Hiro and Kaori! Her heart thudded in her chest, not for the first time since her arrival, but this time it wasn't nerves. She was elated!

"Ohayo!" Saiyaka greeted her, smiling as she put her glasses on. "Looking forward to classes?"

Hermione nodded with a smile. The girls got dressed into their pale pink robes, and grabbed their bags before heading down to breakfast together.

"We have transfiguration first," Sayaika explained as they wound through the ornate corridors to the meal hall. "Then we have Magical History, DADA, then we have Yokai Studies before lunch."

"Y-Yokai Studies," Hermione whispered. "We didn't have anything like that in Britain..."

"It's okay," Saiyaka adjusted her glassed with a nervous laugh."Think of it like Care for Magical Creatures, but instead with intelligent spirits."

"Erm, Saiyaka?" Hermione swallowed. She read through Yamato-sama's letter several times, but she was drawing a blank on the new subjects. She remembered there were many, and that they took 7 classes in summer term and 7 classes in winter term. Third year on, they add up to 6 electives, and mandatory club involvement kicks in (as a July Program Student, Hermione had to join them right away). "When do you guys start Care for Magical Creatures? We don't till third year."

"First boarding year," she explained. "Once we board we take fourteen subjects, and we narrow it down as we progress in years. Either by choice or by failing out. It's quite a to-do, but I want to do all fourteen plus all offered electives till seventh boarding year, then I'll have what I need no matter what I choose for my training years."

That was something Hermione would do, she felt like Saiyaka would be a good friend by the month's end.

"You would do that, wouldn't you?" a boy's voice groaned.

"Matou-san!" Saiyaka squeaked. "Sorry! I'll get out of your way."

Matou was a tall boy about their age with neat black hair, pale skin and hateful black eyes wearing pristine pink robes and a sneer that curdled Hermione's blood. Did every bloody school have a Draco Malfoy?

"Who are you?" he turned his gaze to Hermione. "Are you the July-exchange student for our year?"

Hermione nodded shrinking beneath his gaze as a rather pretty girl looking quite a bit like him came up to his side. _Twins?_

"Shiro!" she whined clinging to his arm. Not his twin.

 _Of course someone like that would look for someone who looked just like him._ "Rie-chan, meet the July student for our year."

"Oh?" she laughed. "Of course the muggle-lover would pair her with Okasha. You're new and don't know anything yet, but there is a reason Okasha has no friends. Even for a-"

Hermione was about ready to speak when a cold female voice snapped from behind them. "Don't you idiots have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, Yamato-san," they grumbled before stalking off into the distance.

Hermione turned to see a tall, younger echo of Yamato Minako. This was Kaori, standing before them, with an air of unwavering confidence. Kaori had the same sweet, pale heart shaped face as her mother, dark brown eyes fringed with long lashes, her long black hair trailed past her waist with her forelocks tied behind her head with a red bow, she was slender, but didn't look weak, the gold-trim on her pink robes told Hermione she performed very well, and the only thing that seemed to remotely register as a flaw to Hermione was a single pronounced canine tooth that was revealed when she smiled. And even that Hermione found cute. Hiro was right to be intimidated by his sister, she seemed so perfect. _I'm hopeless!_

"Hermione-chan?" she asked with a smile. "I know you've seen my picture, but we haven't met. I'm Kaori. Hiro will be waiting for us at breakfast. He wouldn't shut up all week about you coming!"

"Thank you, Senpai," Sayaika bowed to her.

"You _need_ to start standing up for yourself, Saiyaka-kun! Top of your year and you're just letting Matou Shiro push you around!"

The three girls made their way over to the dinning hall, where they came upon a very long table where both students and faculty sat, there must have been close to two hundred people all told at the table and Hermione didn't know how they navigated conversations over meals with so much noise, so close. A boy with messy black hair waved the three of them over. Hermione knew who waved them over in an instant when she saw his pale olive skin, round face and smiling hazel eyes, the boy was Hiro.

"Hermi-chan!" Hiro beamed as Hermione sat beside him.

Kaori took a cushion between him and a girl with short black hair tied who greeted her with a wide smile.

"Miyuki-chan, this is Hermione!" Kaori introduced.

"Hi!" she waved. "I'm Hitoromi Miyuki!"

Sayaika sat on Hermione's other side, but didn't engage Hiro, Kaori or Miyuki.

"Oh, Hermi-chan," Hiro said pointing across from him.

Two boys, one a petite Japanese boy with black hair and eyes behind square glasses, and the other an average height dark-skinned boy with cropped dark brown hair and brown eyes and a sea of freckles. They smiled and nodded at her.

"This is Mitzubitshi Toshio," Hiro introduced. "And Johnson Samuel, he's the July student for our year."

"You can call me Sam," he smiled.

"American?" Hermione ventured by his accent.

"Sorry, Canadian. Prince Edward Island to be specific," he corrected with a shrug. "You're British, right?"

"Oh, erm, sorry," Hermione bowed in apology. "Yeah, grew up in Scotland, but I know I have my Dad's accent. English of some kind."

"You don't know where your father grew up?" Hiro asked.

"He never talks about his past," Hermione shrugged feeling rather put on the spot and regretting her honesty. "Erm, Hiro-kun, how's your past week been?"

Like Kaori, Hiro had a pronounced canine that added a mischievous flair to his smile, under his untidy black hair, his hazel eyes shone as he described the most recent exploits of _the Mahoukatoro Mercury_ the student run news paper, he, Kaori, Miyuki, Sam and Toshio all worked on. The socially awkward boy in Hiro's letters revealed himself from time to time during the meal, but it seemed his struggles after joining the school paper mostly vanished. She didn't mind it though, this Hiro seemed so much more at ease with himself, and still as kind and funny.

She wondered how Hiro could have ever struggled to make friends. Hermione found herself unable to break her focus, enraptured in every word, even more so than she had been by his letters. And his voice, she could listen to him speak all day, and judging by Sam and Toshio, Hermione was not the only one taken by his presence.

The food was infinitely better than the Hogwarts breakfasts, instead of focusing on eggs and bacon, she had steamed rice, an assortment of pickled vegetables and seaweed and a small bowl of honey dew. Though looking at the small dishes assorted in front of her and the others she felt bad for the house-elves who did the dishes.

Melodic chimes rang through the hall and Hermione rose with the rest of them after another 'thanks for the food'. Sayaika bowed and promised to meet her in their dorm, and Hiro excitedly took to the task of showing her around the school.

After corridors of classrooms and a co-ed common room, Hiro led her to an expansive garden that seemed to break the laws of physics bathed in golden sunlight. Sakura blooms opened, despite the season, on their towering trees like fluffy pink clouds in the crisp blue sky, a stone path lined with red lantern houses every few meters wound around the garden, a red bridge arched over a stream, and coy pond, willows in full bloom blew in the breeze and at the treeline Hermione spied another red structure with a pointed brown roof by the tree line with on a stone platform that she recognized as a shrine.

"This," she breathed trying to conjure the words in Japanese. "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Hiro smiled with a laugh. "This is one of four gardens on the edge of the forest, we have one for each cardinal direction. South is the smallest, but my favourite. Y-you said in one of your letters you wanted to see cherry blossoms in person, so I wanted to show you the one where we've planted the most."

"B-but I wrote that letter a year ago," Hermione gasped. "I can't believe you remembered!"

Hiro's face flushed the colour of the blossoms they stood under and Hermione felt her own cheeks burn. She expected the delusion that he might like her to fade away once he saw her, but he had remembered every word she wrote, and she remembered his too. The two stood opposite each other in an awkward silence that Hermione was sure could only be achieved by a nearly twelve-year-old girl with a hopeless crush on a thirteen-year-old boy she barely knew. And the recipient of said crush. _Ugh! I'm hopeless! I don't want to be_ that _girl!_

"Have you thought about which clubs you'll join, Hermi-chan?" he asked leading her down the path. "You have to do two outside of Culture Club."

"Erm," Hermione turned her attention to the circling coy in the water beneath her, leaning over the rail of the bridge. "I was, erm, hoping to join the _Mercury._ I'm fascinated by journalism and like writing...what clubs are there?"

"The _Mercury_ would love to have you!" Hiro smiled joining her on the rail. "There's also the student council, but I think you have to be a year-round student, non-human welfare society, Junior Librarians, Go club, Literature club, board game club, each school subject has its own club, then there's sports; archery, kendo, dueling and Quidditch."

"Ha!" Hermione held out her scrawny arms. "I'm definitely not joining a sport! I think I'll do the paper and Non-Human Welfare Society."

"That sounds great!" Hiro exclaimed. " _Mercury_ meets Monday, Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, I think Non-human Welfare Society meets Saturday mornings before classes and Wednesdays at lunch, and then Culture Club is Thursday afternoons. What're your eight summer-term subjects?"

Hermione showed Hiro her time- table, the two compared their schedules and found they were out of classes at the same time and on the same floor. That was great, they would meet up and he could show her where the team met up. "I have to go grab my things for first class, but I'll see you at lunch!" Hermione waved and she was certain nothing would wipe the foolish grin off her face this month.

* * *

Hermione performed well enough in her classes, though the fields she had no practice in, she didn't perform to her satisfaction. The professors all seemed kind, save the shrewd Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Kaname-Sensei, who perhaps had seen too many hexes and curses in practice. A short fat man, but in demeanour was incredibly like her father. She'd leave that out of her reports, she decided. Yokai Studies might have been Hermione's new favourite subject, and was Saiyaka's favourite, if it wasn't also taught by Kaname.

Being foreign bought her some lee-way, that she didn't want, from the professors (save Kaname, so she had to give him that) but ire from some of the students. A few older students acted as if the concept of having one July gaijin-student second year up was tad amount to an invasion. Though most just made cracks about British stereotypes. Matou Shiro and Inuyama Rie among the worst in short time. She had heard "You're British so you won't understand..." so many times in that first day that by lunch she wanted to scream.

What was worse was the general dislike for poor Saiyaka. A number of students even warning Hermione to be careful around her, with no context other than sly smiles. Some called her ugly, she was more plain-looking than anything, if not on the cute side, so it was clearly to shake her up, some made fun of her coming from Okinawa, and a select few, including Matou Shiro, made harassing comments directed at her Muggle parentage. Every time Hermione opened her mouth to shut them u, Saiyaka would take her by the shoulders and shake her head furiously.

"I'm the only muggle-born in our year," Saiyaka explained as they dropped their bags off after classes. "We're a very small school, so anything different is not taken well. But at least I get to see Matou Shiro's stupid face every time he's second to me in grades! That makes all the crap worth it!"

Hermione didn't doubt seeing that little idiot's face when he was bested by a plain little muggle born of all people was anything less than delicious. But she did doubt anything could make Saiyaka's troubles worth it. Hermione couldn't relate point-for-point with her, but she had been through similar treatment over her origins and appearance. Nothing made it worth it, and Sayaika's treatment seemed worse. It seemed Saiyaka didn't even have friends to lean on, unless her fat cat Momo counted.

"Erm, Sayaika," she asked. "I'm going to check out the _Mercury,_ I have to join two clubs, and I like that one...erm, do you want to check it out with me?"

"Thanks, Hermione," she said quietly. "But I have so much homework, and I'm already on the Non-Human Welfare Society which takes quite a bit of time, and Juniour Librarians."

"Okay," Hermione smiled before bowing. "I'll see you later!"

Hermione walked to the library with Kaori and Miyuki on either side of her, smiling and describing their plans for the week. She found out that both Kaori and Miyuki were on the student council, and judging by the reception of passers-by, both girls seemed to be quite popular, Kaori was both the seeker and captain for the girls' Quidditch team, and headed the girls' kendo club. She was reminded again of how little she was involved in her own school back home during some of the conversations.

The library was smaller than Hogwarts's, but it felt cozy with massive windows letting the afternoon bathe the towering book shelves that extended to the mezzanine above them. A pattern which continued up three floors. Above her the vaulted ceiling boasted an intricate mural of scenes from the island, forest, sea, the castle, the gardens, and various floating orbs and creatures danced across them. Hermione felt a little dumb being awestruck by a library, but it was hit her with a mix of nostalgia from the smell of old books, and novelty as she was faced with thousands of books she had never seen in a wholly new environment.

"The room we booked for the club is on the fourth floor," Kaori explained.

"You'll love it," Miyuki nodded. "We have a magic printing press and complete access to the archives!"

" _Complete_ access to the archives?!" Hermione had to stop herself from squealing.

"Shh!" shushed a spectral form in a kimono, and Hermione knew right away that the ghost of a young Kamakura-period woman was the librarian.

Another room that seemed to defy physics. The _Mercury_ held meetings in a very large room lined with seemingly endless shelves of scrolls and hard-bound books, as promised a magic printing press sat in a corner with stacks of paper sitting on the table beside it. Hiro, Sam and Toshio sat together at a long table scouring over photographs before acknowledging the girls.

"Toshio's got the photographs for next week's issue," Hiro explained after they sat around the table.

Hermione leaned over to see photographs from different club meetings and team practices, all of them looking as if the club members had no clue they were being taken. They all seemed engrossed in the task at hand, perhaps their eyes would have betrayed some knowledge of Toshio, but they were respectfully covered with a long black bar. Perhaps seeing the expression on Hermione's face, Toshio explained that he retro-actively got permission from the photos' subjects, but the bar was expected for mass-circulated photos unless otherwise expressed.

"These are good, Toshio-kun," Kaori smiled. "I'll set to work on the layout. Miyuki-chan, do you have that article on the Ministry's decision to open a magical school for permanently blind and deaf children?"

"Right here!" Miyuki held out a paper scroll, beaming. "I also have the piece on the library bandit!"

"Library bandit?" Hermione asked.

"A book goes missing once a month," Hiro explained dramatically. "It goes like this: a seventh-boarding-year student will go to sign out a book for secondary completion papers and it will be missing. Not signed out, but missing. There doesn't seem to be anything in common but that their in their last year before they specialize! We've been interviewing loads of people with no luck. I suspect someone in the Junior Library club, but they all have alibis."

"Not much happens here," Miyuki explained. "So the Library Bandit is naturally front page news."

"Even though it shouldn't be," Kaori reprimanded. "This is just feeding the ego of whoever's doing it. We stop reporting on it and maybe they'll stop!"

"Oh, come on, Kaori-chan!" Miyuki pouted. "Hiro and I interviewed the librarian, the victim and _five_ Junior Librarians! Let our hard work see the light of day!"

"So you've got my little brother in on it as well then?" Kaori sighed. "We'll have to report on it anyway, Watari Senpai and Anya will side with you."

"Fighting about the Bandit again?" a bubbly petite blond girl of fifteen or so skipped into the room. A German accent shining through her otherwise flawless Japanese.

"Anya-san!" Kaori greeted her with a smile.

"Not going to reprimand her for being late?" Hiro said. "Oh, Hermi-chan, this is Larsen Anya, fifth-year's July student. And that's Wateri Yosuke Senpai our editor."

Anya was followed by yet another person, this time a boy of about sixteen who stood at about average hieght of his age with dark brown hair, brown eyes and tanned olive skin. If Hermione had been asked to picture at random a Japanese teenaged boy, Watari Yosuke would have been what she pictured. He smiled and bowed in greeting to the group, which they met with the same greeting.

Once introductions were made, the group set to work. Hermione watched as Kaori and Yosuke debated on lay-outs, arranging and re-arranging them. Hiro provided a cartoon of cabinet members pressuring the Minister to do the right thing, which was paired with Miyuki's first story, and a three panel comic strip accompanied her article on the Library Bandit. Articles about club meetings, the most recent Quidditch match were provided by Toshio, Sam, Hiro and Miyuki. Kaori provided Yosuke with two advice columns, Anya presented an article on upcoming Summer Festivals in Wizarding Japan, and the week's horoscopes.

By the time they were done, it was supper and they would had the issue ready to print.

"Assignments!" Yosuke called before they left. "Anya, horoscopes and the School Summer Festival, Miyuki and Hiro I like the work on the Bandit, keep it up. Just also provide an article following the opening of a separate school for blind and deaf children, Toshio, you and Sam should cover the boys' Kendo Club and it's Hermione, right? I want you with Anya on the horoscopes and the School Summer Festival."

First day, and she was only there for a month, it was dumb to hope she'd be given something like the Library Bandit, or even be trusted as an outsider to accurately capture what was going on in their ministry by navigating third party accounts. However, she had hoped for something more exciting than horoscopes and festivals... _No, you'll make the best of this! You'll be attending a Mahoukatoro Summer Festival._ _You've read about how incredible those are!_

After supper Hermione immediately went to the dorm she shared with Saiyaka, who was bent over a massive volume and furiously scribbling something down. They greeted each other and Hermione set to work she wrote a passage to her father that read along the lines of "everything's brill! Love it here, alive, here are some specifics so you don't harass me. How are you?" and four letters addressed to Fred, George, Ron and Harry. Once she had detailed outlines for each class's workload, and finished her charms homework and read through her _Yokai Studies_ text book until she felt she could no longer keep her eyes open.

* * *

The first week passed and Hermione felt both incredibly privileged and swamped at the same time. She spent a great deal of time in the library brushing up on her new subjects, quizzing herself until she was satisfied, and then the three clubs. She loved working with the paper, even if she and Anya made up horoscopes based on archaic information from _Astrology for beginners,_ she loved listening to Hiro and Miyuki describe in detail their interviews and leads in the Library Bandit Case, which now were pinned on a cork board with red string, and watching the paper come together. She had wished Non-Human Welfare Society had been the same, but it wound up being Saiyaka by herself in a very small study room off the library.

"The president of the club graduated last year and Watari-Senpai quit in April," Saiyaka squeaked looking down at her issue of _Ohayo! Nihon Mahou._ "It's just me now. So not much more than research gets done. Sorry..."

"I-I-" Hermione stammered. "It's okay, I'm still interested. What're you researching now?"

"A Kappa off of Kyoto was killed by a wizard after attacking a worker for a company that polluted the river he lived in," she explained, eyes still on the article. "No charges were made. There's also a werewolf in Osaka that has been sentenced to life in prison. She was found guilty and is the single mother of a toddler, who she'll never see again. The woman didn't even get a trial."

"Shit," Hermione breathed sitting across from her. "That's a horrific miscarriage of justice!"

"Not many would think like us..." Saiyaka sighed. "Did you know that our food and basic maintenance is performed by unpaid house elves? It's like if you're not human you're life doesn't matter! Yet we still put cucumbers and tofu on shrines for Yokai..."

That meeting ended in a grim silence, both wishing they had more students to undersign an appeal for poor woman from Osaka.

Culture Club seemed to be an excuse to lump all the secondary-level July-students together, there were no Japanese save the Care for Magical Creatures professor, Haruno-sama, an short older woman with white hair and paper thin skin that hunched over a cane. She noticed that with the exception of Anya, all the other students hailed from English speaking schools. Canada, Sam, the United States, a tired looking boy of fourteen, New Zealand, an attractive sixteen-year-old boy with a permanent smile, South Africa, a tall, gangily boy that reminded her of Percy of seventeen and herself from Britain. Other than Sam and Anya, Hermione didn't really form an opinion one way or another on any of her program peers.

Any time not spent in study or at clubs that week, she used to gain her bearings with Hiro in part showing her around, and in part exposing the school's secrets to her. Did every school have secret passages and forbidden rooms? One evening after supper Hermione followed Hiro and Toshio up to their dorm with Sam to hang out without the crowds in the gardens or common rooms.

"Mochi is so big now!" Hermione played scratched behind the purring calico in her lap. "She's what, a year-old now?"

"Yeah," Hiro smiled sitting beside her on the futon. "She's a sweet kitty. I'd take her over a raven any day!"

"So," Sam ventured, he and Toshio sitting together on the opposite futon. "You and Miyuki got any new leads on the Library Bandit?"

Hiro mused for a bit before presenting a stack of papers from his bag. "Seventh year boarders draw up an annotated bibliography in May of the major books they'll use for research," he then dropped his voice to a whisper. "I _may_ have swiped this from my grandfather's office...Don't worry, Hermi-chan, I'm copying them tonight so we have what we need but can return them tomorrow morning."

Hermione blushed furiously at this. Had she been so obvious that she was worried? How she envied Hiro's easy smile, had Hermione pulled the same trick with her father she would simply be in pieces, but Hiro seemed to care more about doing what was right than what ever his grandfather might have to do or say about it. Even worse, his grandfather was the headmaster, making the consequences greater than what Hermione would face in the same position. "Erm, you're not, erm, worried?"

"Terrified," he whispered and the nervous boy from Hiro's letters returned. "But, erm, I, erm-catching the Library Bandit...It's..."

"Catching the Library Bandit, is probably the most exciting thing any of us will get to do," Toshio explained. "And for Hiro-kun, the paper is really the only thing he has. Sure, his sister runs it, and Miyuki-san is helping, but this case, if he solves it-"

"It'll be because of us, not because my sister is perfect or because my grandfather is headmaster," Hiro finished looking down at his feet.

Hermione understood that desire all too well. She spent eleven years tied to her father with no true identity of her own or achievements, when she started school any success was undercut by growing up in the school, and the one thing she did to help _actually_ people...She was convinced she was incidental. Hermione even wondered if she was actually clever enough to solve her father's puzzle on her own, or if it was just another lucky occurrence from being raised by him.

"Hiro-kun," she placed her hand on his and smiled. "You've got this. I know you do, but if there's anyway I can help...I want to."

"Hermione," Sam interjected. "As another international student, I should let you know, that consequences for rule breaking are much worse. You can be kicked from the program."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "But this is important. It's not life or death, but...let's just say I might have an idea of where Hiro-kun's coming from," she turned to Hiro and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "If this is important to you, this is important to me. But I also understand if accepting help...it's hard to need people when you doubt your own abilities...but I am totally together with you on whatever you want!"

"Hermi-chan..." Hiro gasped. "I couldn't ask you to..."

"I want to," she asserted.

"You idiots realize she can help without direct rule breaking, right?" Toshio scoffed pushing up his glasses. "Give her the paper trail. We get a pair of fresh eyes on evidence, and she doesn't have to break a single rule."

 _You couldn't think of something that simple? Your father's right, you_ are _a little idiot..._ "Arigato, Toshio-san," Hermione bowed her head and took the chronicled interviews and bibliographies.

* * *

"Is it true all Brits have teeth like that?" Matou asked with a sneer during Divination (Hermione's least favourite subject by far).

"No, Matou-san," Hermione sighed picking up her bamboo rods. "I'm just exceptionally ugly, and I've heard it all before so you can spare your breath."

"Hermi-chan," Saiyaka whispered from opposite her. "You'll make it worse."

"I doubt it," Hermione sighed. "What do your rods tell you, Sayia-chan?"

A week living together and Saiyaka and Hermione were now studying together and even hanging out outside of NHWS club on occasion, and spending most of their nights chatting away their worries. Hermione was never confident with where she stood in people's opinion, but Hermione felt secure in their friendship, and she was they only person the nervous girl spoke to, and the only one with a shortened name.

"That bamboo makes better forests than divining tools?" she laughed meekly.

The girls broke into giggles over that to a shush from the old short mustachioed man Tosaka-Sensei.

Inuyama Rie rolled her eyes. "We had to share a table with you. Okinawan Mudblood and a Limey."

Saiyaka's eyes cast down at her rods and she squirmed in her seat.

"Intend to marry your cousin to keep your bloodline pure, then?" Hermione hissed.

"So our little mudblood has a defender now?!" she yelled.

"Language, Inuyama!" the old man called.

Hermione joined Saiyaka in the nervous squirming as Inuyama Rie glared daggers at them. Hermione had once compared her mentally to Pansy Parkinson, but this girl was much smarter, and more conniving.

"Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka said as they left the class meekly.

"Yeah?"

"You're not you know," she played with one of her braided pigtails.

"Not what?"

"Exceptionally ugly," said Saiyaka.

"I think you need a new prescription," Hermione laughed. "You don't have to pretend-"

"I'm not just being nice," Saiyaka adjusted her glasses. "And my glasses are fine. I just, erm, think you should know that, y'know. And the teeth and curly hair are, erm, kind of cute."

"You're sweet, Saiya-chan," Hermione sighed. "Though I wish you could see that about yourself. You know you're adorable, right?"

Saiyaka adjusted her glasses and fiddled with her braids staring at the ground. Hermione's attempts to comfort her friend turned very awkward. She _was_ adorable, but maybe Saiyaka thought Hermione was either awkwardly paying a compliment back, making the chances of her taking it seriously, or she thought Hermione _liked_ her...which would make their new found friendship very awkward...

 _Shit, Hermione, you are_ such _an idiot!_ _No! You can't blame growing up with no peers! You had a whole damn year with kids your own age! Ugh! Why don't I know better yet?!_

"There's, erm, something I have to do!" Saiyaka bowed. "Sorry! I'll meet you tonight!"

_I am terrible at people!_

* * *

Hermione spent that night after homework, which she did in the co-ed common room to give Saiyaka space, with Hiro and Miyuki in the _Mercury_ combing over the Library Bandit paper trail.

"There's twenty-one seventh-boarding-year students, right?" Hermione asked. "It looks like the four targeted have one thing in common. They're writing on the relationships between Non-Humans and humans in the magical community," Hermione's stomach churned on two topics. " _Uses of House-Elves for the Modern Wizard in Japan and Abroad. An Argument for a Public Registry of Were-Wolves._ This is disgusting!"

"Don't British wizards use house-elves too?" Hiro asked. "I don't think it's right either, but you look disturbed..."

"I just thought my culture was sufficiently backwards...or hoped so at least," she sighed.

"I see," he said.

"Wait!" Miyuki cried looking quite pale. "Who do we know that's involved in the junior librarians and hates the current treatment of Non-Humans in the magical community?"

"No," Hermione breathed barely above a whisper.

"Okasha Saiyaka?" Hiro asked. "Miyuki-san-"

"Saiya-chan's too nervous to pull something like that off," Hermione said, once again digging her nails into her hands. _This can't be happening again!  
_

"Aren't you two dorm-mates?" Miyuki asked. "Any chance you can keep an eye on her for us?"

Hermione involuntarily gripped her hands tighter. Sure, no one was accusing Saiyaka of being a death eater, but Hermione felt as if the investigation of her father was happening all over again. It wasn't even remotely as serious, but she couldn't stop the panic rising in her chest. She was, from what it appeared to be, Sayaika's only friend and no she had to spy on her? Or if she had any desire to keep her friendship with Hiro and Miyuki she had to.

"If you're not comfortable with it," Hiro said quickly. "You don't have to."

 _What?!_ This case meant so much to Hiro, did he mean it? She stared at the list of proposals and bibliographies. Maybe there was something missing. Something that she missed.

"Hermione-chan?" Miyuki said. "Are you okay?"

"If the pattern persists," Hermione said looking at the sign-out history beside the proposals. "the next book to disappear should be _Ningyo Psychology_ and it'll be Natsume Kikyo looking to sign it out. All we need to do is figure out when she intends to sign it out and stake-out the night before." _And Saiyaka never has to know..._

"I'll see if I can overhear her tell her friends anything," Miyuki said. "A stake-out! Ah! This is so cool! I feel like a real investigative reporter!"

"Me too!" Hiro beamed. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Actually," Hermione said. "There's one more thing you guys might be able to do."

* * *

Saiyaka was all too eager to forget the awkward exchange in the morning by the time Hermione got back from their meeting and things seemed normal again. Which given both girls' inexperience with other human-beings, was still often silent and Hermione wishing she knew what Sayaika was thinking as she poured herself into her homework.

The week past with no new developments from Miyuki on when the Natsume girl would sign out her book, Hermione even joined the junior librarians to keep an eye out. Though she had been so busy re-shelving newly returned books that she barely got a sense of the character of her fellow junior librarians. The only new information she got was that House-elves were responsible for books left on tables and new arrivals. She thought to ask one of them if they'd seen anything funny, but she didn't want to let on why she joined the club.

She knew she only had two weeks left, so she wanted to make the most of her time on Hiro's case, but she also wanted to leave feeling like Saiyaka would have someone to turn to. She'd hoped her plan would achieve both, but didn't hold out hope. Saiyaka was invisible to Hiro and his friends, so she hoped the best witch of her year could provide some insights that would earn her a shot.

"Hermi-chan!" Sayakia took off her glasses and furiously rubbed at the lenses with a pink cloth. She was still surprised at the number of people at the NHWS meeting this week.

"Hi, Saiya-chan," she smiled and waved. "I've brought new memebers! This is-"

"I know who they are," she hissed.

"Saiyaka, we didn't..." Hiro gulped. "It was a long time ago..."

_Wait, do you two have a history?_

Saiyaka stared at Hermione, her eyes wide and face drained. "Tell me you didn't know all along...that comment after divination..."

"Saiya-chan..." Hermione backed away. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Miyuki sighed. "Saiyaka, Hiro and I used to be close friends..."

"Really?" Hermione bit her lip. "But why-"

"It's hard, y'know," Saiyaka said, shaking. "To find wizards that don't care about being muggle-born, or Okinawan, but I did, in Hiro and Miyuki. But that didn't last..."

Saiyaka pressed her lips together in a hard line tears pooled in her dark brown eyes, threatening to brim over, her hands were balled into white knuckled fists at her side. Saiyaka was angry. Fourteen days was barley anytime to get a read on a character, but judging by the others' shock, this was not something that anyone expected of the unassuming shy girl who simply took racial slurs without protest.

"I'm so so sorry, Saiya-chan," Hermione said. "I didn't-I wasn't-I-I-"

"I told them not to tell you, Hermione," Miyuki admitted. "When you invited us here to join the club, I thought it was time to...Saiya-chan, it's been two years!"

" _You told!"_ cried Saiyaka.

Hermione was shocked to see Miyuki and Hiro hit their knees and press their forehead to the ground. A full bow of apology, and Saiyaka's tears rolled down her cheeks. What the hell did Hermione unwittingly set up? This, whatever it was, seemed deeply personal, like something that she, Sam and Toshio should not have been there to witness.

"I'm so sorry, Saiyaka-san!" she trembled.

"We're both sorry," Hiro repeated. "We were stupid. But we want to stop you before you get yourself expelled, even if you still don't want to be friends with us!"

"Expelled?" Sayaika cried. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Miyuki rose. "I'm sorry, Saiya-chan-"

"You don't get to call me that after what you did!"

"Saiyaka-san," she lifted her hands as if trying to calm a panicked hippogriff. "I know you're passionate about non-human rights, but sabotaging the theses of upperclassmen won't do anything! Return the books and we won't say a word."

"Oh, my god!" Saiyaka laughed. "You think I'm the library bandit?!"

"Erm," Miyuki looked off into the distance ashamed.

"I'm not!" she wept. "And I'm sorry I don't have an alibi, but it's hard to have one when you have no friends!"

" _You_ left the group..." Toshio ventured nervously.

"After Miyuki and Hiro told everyone I was gay!" she seethed. "I had everything against me, I didn't need anything extra!"

That conversation suddenly made sense now...When Hermione complimented her, Saiyaka thought she was making fun of her. No wonder she was in such a rush to leave...

"We made a mistake," Miyuki explained. "You were ten, I was twelve, I thought it was a silly little girl crush at the time, so I didn't see any harm in telling Kaori or Aya. Notice Aya doesn't hang around us anymore? We only see her in Student Council now. And Hiro and Inuyama Rie were friends when he told her."

"I didn't expect her to spread it to your whole year before you even started boarding," Hiro sighed. "I had no clue how awful she was back then...It's no excuse, I know that now. I can tell you I've grown up, that I regret doing it, but I don't think that matters to you. I reckon it's trust, you trusted us with something personal and we violated it. I'm sorry, Saiyaka-san."

"And you apologize by accusing me of betraying my role as a Junior Librarian? To sabotage a couple of essays?"

"You hate us, that's fine!" Miyuki cried. "But I still don't want you to throw away your future!"

"I keep telling you, I'm not the bandit!" Saiyaka seethed.

A silence filled the room and she wished Mikyuki and Hiro had told her their plan to confront her before they were even convinced of her guilt. Hermione would have called the whole thing off. Everyone stared at each other in various stages of 'what the hell' written all over their faces. This should have never happened, Saiyaka shot daggers at stupid could Hermione have been? She just unilaterally decided a particular set of actions were best when they affected others a hell of a lot more than they affect her! What the hell was _wrong_ with her? _Get out of your own damn head, stupid girl! Fix this!_

"S-Saiyaka," Hermione bowed. "This is all my fault. I knew Miyuki suspected you, I thought if she met with you she'd realize she was wrong. I'm sorry. I also thought, foolishly, I'll admit, that I thought you could help with the investigation and that they could sign the appeal for the Osaka woman. I-I thought it would be a win-win...th-that..." she didn't know where to go from there. Her struggle for words stopped when she felt a hand give hers a reassuring squeeze.

"Saiyaka," Hiro bowed, his hand still linked in Hermione's. "Please forgive us!"

"Here's the damn petition for the Osaka werewolf case," she sniffed. "Win-Win, Hermione? I thought you were smarter than this!"

* * *

 _Everything's great! I've made some good friends, I adore my classes, am enjoying clubs and realizing that British food is the absolute worst._ Hermione wrote that night in the girls' common room. _And everything's okay there?_

 _The word 'vague' doesn't even begin to describe your accounts._ Her father wrote back.

She _really_ hated this cutting into time she needed to figure out what to do. Every night! Harry, Fred, George and Ron were all happy with the raven once a week or so. Well, Harry never wrote her, but the others seemed satisfied.

_Running out of novel things to tell. Only so many ways to say everything's fine. Which it is, better than fine! It's wonderful here. Girls' prefect is calling for lights out, I have to go._

_O.K._ his writing appeared on the page. _I'll let you go then. Behave yourself. Stay safe, don't forget to write tomorrow, love you._

He ended every damn exchange with that. She understood why, and, for all she knew, it was normal, but the demand she write daily was more oppressive than the Japanese heat, and the 'stay safes' made her feel five.

 _Write to you tomorrow. Love you_.

Hermione shut the book and took to how to set things right with Saiyaka. Meaning well meant nothing, Hermione had about a month of modified memories to prove that. She tried to come up with a solution, but nothing seemed to pan out. Hermione would apologize sure, and Saiyaka was her own person, if she wanted nothing to do with Hermione, that was her decision and fine. But it hurt.

Wisdom was supposed to come with age, but nearly twelve years of being alive and Hermione hardly felt that was the case. She was so clueless! And Miyuki at fourteen was the oldest of the lot there and hardly seemed any wiser for it. All she knew was that Saiyaka was so hurt by Hiro and Miyuki that she would rather be alone for two entire years. Whatever she did, she had to be smart about it...something she was losing faith in her ability to do.

"Ugh!" Hermione slammed her head against the table.

"Hermione-chan?" Kaori sat beside her. "I didn't know anyone was still up."

"Sorry, Senpai! Neither did I," Hermione raised her head to address her but shrank in her chair. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," she said. "And I actually wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Oh?" Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hand. _How did you find out? I wonder if you were one of the ones spreading it..._

"Miyuki-chan's my best friend," she explained. "She tells me everything. Including what happened at NHWS."

"I didn't mean for-" _Damn it, Miyuki! You talking is the reason this whole thing started!_ No, that wasn't fair...

"I know," she sighed with a weak smile. "It was really hard for all of them...Hiro really just hung around with me and Miyuki after that, Toshio was assigned Sam, so he had an excuse not to get involved with the drama, and Saiyaka simply stopped talking to anyone, I don't think she ever trusted anyone after that. Miyuki and I were your age...Hiro was eleven, and didn't know Rie would become...Hermione-chan, we were all very stupid kids and Miyuki really only went to us for advice because she didn't know how to deal with Saiyaka's feelings for her. We didn't know Aya would be out for blood for a ten-year-old. But she and Rie are cousins, and Rie did take Saiyaka beating her academically pretty hard. Does any of this make sense?"

It did. Hiro and Miyuki should have kept Saiyaka's confidence, but she at least understood Miyuki's desire to go to Kaori for advice. She clearly still cared about Saiyaka, not wanting her to get expelled. And if Hermione found out one of her friends liked her that way and she couldn't reciprocate, she might have done something equally stupid in an attempt to preserve the precarious friendship. Hell, even Hiro's loneliness in his letters now made sense. It was like the group only just got back together...without Saiyaka.

"Thank you for telling me, Senpai," Hermione nodded. "I understand where everyone's coming from now. I just wish I never meddled..."

"You didn't know the history," Kaori said, somehow still smiling. "And you're not even twelve yet, are you? Meddling to try and get everyone you care about on the same page is understandable, and at your age it can be hard to see what harm can come of things."

"You sound like a grown-up," Hermione sighed.

"Just another stupid kid in over her head," Kaori replied. "But I hope I helped."

 _I honestly don't know if anything will help._ "Yes, Senpai." she nodded. "Thank you."

"Are you planning on staying here all night?" Kaori asked.

"I'm certain I'm the last person Saiyaka wants to see after that stunt I pulled."

"I'll stay up with you, Hermione-chan," she said. "I'm simply drowning in homework."

* * *

"Hiro-kun! Hermione-chan!" Miyuki ran up to her and Hiro doing homework under a cherry blosssom tree.

"Miyuki-Senpai?" the said together tearing their eyes from their homework.

"I overheard Natsume-Senpai telling Yosuke-san griping about how she needs to get her final proposal done before July ends. And she said she would have to hit the library tomorrow!"

"You know what that means," Hiro leapt up. "We do our stake-out tonight! I have to go tell Toshio-kun and Sam!"

He took off like a shot. The spring in his step, Hiro's hard work would pay off and they would solve the case tonight. Hermione expected that to make her happy, but she couldn't shake the sight of Saiyaka during classes keeping to herself, or their eyes meeting over breakfast. Hermione had intended to apologize, but like a coward backed down at her glare. She hugged her knees as Miyuki sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry Hiro and I didn't tell you..." she said looking at the grass. "We should have...I don't know why we didn't."

"I don't think I'm the person you should be apologizing to, Miyuki-san," Hermione closed her book. "I-I," she sighed. "Look, what happened back there was a result of my meddling. If Saiyaka hates my guts, I deserve it. But I think Saiyaka deserves to hear your side of the story and an apology that's not accompanied by an accusation."

"I know you're right," Miyuki sighed stretching out on her stomach next to Hermione. "And I will. But I think I need to give her time."

"It's been-crap!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I left my map of the library in my dorm room. I'll be back."

Hermione came up with the intention of grabbing the map and leaving before Saiyaka had to suffer her presence too long, but that all changed when she saw Saiyaka curled up in a fetal position on her futon sobbing, clinging to her cat. She was going to slide the door closed quietly and give her some privacy, but when she slid the door open Saiyaka locked eyes with her, as well as she could without her glasses.

"Sorry!" both girls stammered simultaneously.

"I-I'll go, I'm so so sorry!" Hermione turned to leave.

"Wait," Sayaika sighed sitting up. "Tell me, did you really not know after divination on Monday?"

"I didn't," she whispered. "I'm sorry if you thought I was teasing you. And, erm, for what it's worth, erm, I really do think they're sorry. It's not my place, but I got everyone's side of the story. It sounds like they were just not thinking. And if you still hate me after that meeting, I completely understand, but..." Hermione dropped to her knees and bowed. "I'm sorry for everything, Sayaika-san."

Saiyaka wiped her eyes and grabbed her glasses. "I don't hate you. I don't hate them either. If I'm honest, I miss them."

Saiyaka sat with her cat, scratching behind her ears and looked off in the distance for a while before joining Hermione on the floor with a surprising smile that seemed to even touch her tear-filled eyes with an extended pinky. "Promise not to ambush me ever again and I promise to hear them out."

Hermione took the extended pinky and the girls shook on it singing "This is a pinky-promise, if I break it I'll shove a thousand needles in my eyes!"

"So, Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka asked as they left the room in a whisper. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "If I wasn't sorry, I'd be a monster."

"No, I, erm, never mind!"

Hermione dropped it figuring Saiyaka would tell her when she wanted to. They went down to the gardens together to meet Miyuki, Kaori and the others, with legitimate surprise from Hermione that Saiyaka wanted to go see them. "We all used to be so close, and it _has_ been two years."

"Saiyaka-san!" Miyuki gasped. "I didn't expect...I'm..."

"Hermi-chan told me everything on the way down," Saiyaka played with one of her braids. "It's sounds like it was all a massive misunderstanding. And you _did_ all sign my petition. So, erm..."

Miyuki shocked the group by leaping to her feet and wrapping her arms around her. "We _missed_ you!"

"I hear you lot are looking for a pair of new eyes on the library bandit case?" she smirked breaking free of Miyuki.

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this!" Sam whispered nearly shaking.

"You didn't have to come," Toshio said adjusting his camera lens. " you, Anya-san and Hermione-chan _could_ have stayed in your dorms."

"And miss this?" Hermione scoffed, despite harbouring some of Sam's apprehensions. "Hell no!"

By some miracle the entirety of the _Mercury_ and Saiyaka were able to stay behind in the study room after the doors had been locked. Well, all but Kaori and Yosuke.

"The book will be on this shelf," Saiyaka said.

Hiro nodded and circled five points. "Hermi-chan, you'll be with me around this shelf, Toshio you should-"

Toshio shook his head and circled a new point where shelves met in a T. "Sam and I are best here. I'll have the clearest shot without being seen. Miyuki and Saiyaka are best..."

"We're best here," Sayaika pointed to one of Hiro's original points. "We have easiest access to the exact spot on the shelf while still being hidden. Trust me, two years of hiding from everyone in this library gives me that insight."

"What about Ikigawa no Kagome?" Hermione whispered. "Librarian's a ghost, it's not like she'll be sleeping."

"Don't hate me, Hiro-kun," Miyuki blushed looking down at the map. "I told Kaori and she's agreed to help."

"We'll be making diversions elsewhere in the library," Anya explained. "I'll be here," she marked a point on the second floor with an X. "And Kaori will be on the main floor."

They all put there hands in on the table whispering "good luck!"before raising their hands into a contactless group high-five. They broke, sneaking to their positions hoping not to get caught by any house-elves or the spectral librarian. Hermione taught each of them the _muffliatio_ spell so they wouldn't be heard, but told them it stopped people in a radius around them from hearing them by filling their ears with ringing, so it might not completely conceal them.

Hermione had memories of hiding in a library going so far back, ducking behind a shelf and peaking out to see who was around the bend was no new feat. It felt so familiar, yet so new. Exhilaration and fear warred within her. Fear she shouldn't have felt when she had been through so much worse, yet the idea of expulsion...whatever future she had would be destroyed, she'd never see her friends again, and her father would...she didn't know, but it wouldn't be pleasant. But she would live, not a guarantee last time, and the stakes were so, so much lower.

The war within her head quietened with a hand on her shaking one, Hiro smiled at her and Hermione returned his reassuring squeeze. The two made eyecontact for a brief moment before returning their gaze to the shelf. They didn't know how long they waited but at last they saw something.

A hooded figure crept through the library nearly melting into the shadows and shelves. This was it! The Library Bandit crept along the shelf opposite them. Hermione's heart-thudded in her heart, all they had to do was wait for the flash of Toshio's camera, and they could declare that they caught him red-handed! A hand crept up and lifted the book from the shelf.

A bright flash of light and click and a familiar voice shouted in surprise dropping the book. The six of them congregated on him before he could escape, leaping from behind their perspective shelves to form a circle what Hermione now realized was composed of much smaller kids around a full grown, what appeared to be, man. Though he was still covering his eyes.

"Muffliato!" Hermione cast.

"The hood," Hiro demanded. "Take it down."

The man complied, and they were greeted with a very familiar set of brown eyes under a messy dark brown fringe.

"Watari-Senpai!" they all gasped at once.

"Damn it!" he spat. "How'd you-why'd-"

" _You_ asked us to investigate the bandit!" Miyuki said. "And _you're the library bandit?_ "

" _Tell_ me, Senpai," Saiyaka said in a tiny voice. "Please tell me this wasn't to get a good story before you graduate in March."

Toshio looked sadly at his camera not saying anything, Sam looked uncomfortable, his wand gripped at his side. Hermione felt she shared his expression. Neither of them really had enough time to feel betrayed by this, but the other members of the _Mercury_ looked as if they no longer knew who they were looking at. Saiyaka though, she seemed livid. Hermione didn't blame her, she had trust issues and for good reason. Finally, she decided to let people in, and someone else lied to her...

"It started out as a prank on this guy," he explained calmly. "It was one book in his completion paper. Wouldn't ruin his life, but it would drive him mad. Then when rumours started flying and Hiro-kun asked to investigate it, I saw the potential for something that could look good when I applied for _Ohayo, Mahou Nihon!_ Even without solving it, it would be I also noticed that seven of the twenty-one of us were writing on archaic ideas of the place of Non-Humans in magical Japan. I was hoping Hiro and Miyuki would report on that common thread as soon as they noticed it. I didn't expect the headmaster's grandson to risk stake-out. The camera...Toshio-kun, I won't force you to destroy the picture, but I will ask you."

"Did you really hope to accomplish anything that way?" Saiyaka asked. "All it would do is make people who care about non-human rights look petty."

"I guess I just felt like I was doing something, however little, in my power to shake them up," he sighed. "Stupid that I'm being shown up by a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, huh?"

Hermione and Saiyaka exchanged a knowing glance deciding not to correct him.

"You should have thought about that, shouldn't you have?!" cried Miyuki. "Did you know we actually thought poor Saiya-chan did it?"

"Sorry, Saiyaka-kun," Yosuke bowed. "I didn't mean for that. I honestly only wanted to ruin a few bigots' papers while making a great story. If I could also do something for non-human rights awareness, it was a bonus."

"Well, you did more harm than good!" Miyuki hissed.

"Wait," Hiro said. "There's a win for all of us here."

Hermione's stomach tensed. She hoped his win-win scenario was more thought out than her own.

"Write an anonymous letter from the Library Bandit," Hiro suggested. "Announcing your retirement."

"Oh!" Saiyaka piped up. "Erm,I, erm, you could even write about how it was all a misguided attempt to reveal the normalization human-supremacy in the school."

"Yes!" Miyuki beamed snapping her fingers. "You can even add a statement about how your views are still the same, but you now understand how juvenile your methods were, and the slippery to more extreme methods from there. It'll make you look sympathetic."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. She'd been there for three weeks, not long enough to say anything, but..."Maybe close with a dream of humans and non-humans living in harmony? You don't have to! But the sentiment, erm..." _Stupid piece of shit! Hold your tongue!_

"Hermione-chan's right," Toshio shrugged. "It'd tie it nicely together. And it'd work a hell of a lot better than yelling 'specist dumbass' at half the school."

"Yamato Kaori-san!" an ethereal voice below them shrieked. "Your grandfather will destroy you."

"It's not likely," Hiro muttered in Hermione's ear. "She's top witch of her year _and_ the single best Seeker we've had in a century. She'll get off with community service. Let's go before _we're_ caught!

"I'm sorry, Hiro-kun," Hermione as they lagged behind the group. "I know how badly you wanted to solve and write on this case."

"I didn't want the culprit expelled," he explained taking her hand. "I wanted to solve it, and I did. I don't think I would have without you."

* * *

"Kawaii!" Miyuki squealed pinching Hermione's cheeks.

"Cute?" Hermione scoffed looking at herself in the mirror. "I feel like walking cultural appropriation."

The girls had decided to get ready for the festival together in Kaori and Miyuki's dorm. Which had been an affair the Saiyaka and Hermione were completely bewildered by. Miyuki had worked away at Hermione's hair, forcing it into a coiled braid with locks hanging loosley over her shoulder, mimicking what Anya had done with Kaori's (though with much less effort), while Kaori brushed out Saiyaka's long wavy hair. It was communal and fun as they talked about whatever came to mind. Including the prospect of a trashy-romance book club.

Now that they were finished, Hermione examined Miyuki's handiwork in the mirror, and to her credit, she was almost pretty, which was no easy feat. But the kanzashi pinning her finge out of her face and baby blue floral kimono didn't feel right. Like she was playing pretend rather than taking part in local rituals respectfully.

" _Yare yare!"_ Anya pouted gesturing to her own pettite form. "At least you can pass for half-Japanese, or at least half-East Asian!"

That was fair. Whatever Hermione felt, it was probably worse for Anya, who's blond curls were pulled from her blue eyes with chopsticks, and the pink of her cheeks of her otherwise ivory skin matched the sakura printed kimono she wore. As pretty as she looked, she was the most out of place among the dark-haired and eyed girls around her.

"This is my _third_ Matsuri and I still feel like I have 'gaijin' stamped on my forehead!" Anya scoffed. "And I'm _German_!"

"You're both fine!" Kaori laughed straightening her red kimono. "School's been doing this program for I think fifteen years now!"

"What's everyone's stand schedules?" Saiyaka bringing a lock of her loose hair over her shoulder to fiddle with it.

Saiyaka's full face was visible for the first time all month with her long fringe tied out of her face with a red ribbon. She had a soft round face, and her dark brown eyes were larger than she had originally thought. She smiled nervously and went from playing with her hair to fussing over her navy kimono.

Hermione dug hers out and the other girls did the same, they had gone over the schedules before with the boys, but ensuring everyone knew where would accomplish two things; making it easier to find everyone before the fireworks launch, and it would let Saiyaka know they had no intention of leaving her to hide alone all night for the second year in a row.

"Alright!" Kaori said leaping up. "We'll meet up on the south shore to with the boys to watch the fireworks! I have to go watch the day students until they're collected."

"thirty seven-to-ten-year-olds," Miyuki sighed adjusting the fabric tsubaki flower on the side of her head. "Try not to have too much fun."

"I'll just get them playing Kagome Kagome until they're collected," Kaori shrugged grabbing her bag. "They're always so determined to figure out the others' footsteps!"

"See you at the festival!"

* * *

Hermione and Sam finished their shift at the Culture Club's ramen stand to be relieved by the boys from New Zealand and South Africa. They gave them their black aprons and hats before setting off to find Anya and Toshio. Hermione followed Sam quitely, or as quietly as she could in geta, watching the groups of students in kimonos and yukata laughing and talking. The crowds were much more managable then they had been in Tokyo, and despite Hermione's fears, she never lost site of Sam in the sea of people.

"Ready to try ramen and Yaki Soba from ten different stands?" Anya teased leaping to her feet. "Or matcha from eight? The clubs should really communicate what they're doing with each other! At least there's the candy-apple stand."

"You three get together!" Toshio ordered adjusting his camera lense. "I want a picture of the reporters assigned to the festival."

"Say cheese, kiddos!" Anya laughed throwing an arm around both her and Sam.

Sam and Hermione were both still looking at Anya in surprise when a sudden flash accompanied by a click assaulted their eyes.

"And they said Germans were grumpy," Toshio rolled his eyes. "Anya's the only one smiling."

And so began the night of games and too many noodles. Hermione still asserted she liked Japanese food better than British food, but miso ramen quickly went from her favourite dish to her least favourite. The four of them set to interviewing heads of each stand for the paper, Toshio ambushing patrons and servers alike with his camera. He would then write the names of those in the pictures in his notebook in order to get permissions before the print of the last issue of the _Mercury_ before break.

"Hermi-chan!" a voice called and Hermione turned to see Hiro with Saiyaka.

It seemed the boys could get away with much less fuss than the girls. Hiro beamed at her under still very messy black hair and he looked like he simply threw on his yakata and left his dorm. Hermione was a little jealous, he looked so effortless, especially next to Saiyaka, but he still gave Hermione a stupid case of the butterflies. At risk of sounding like a protagonist in a trashy romance novel, she thought she could stare at his smiling face in the golden sunset forever.

"Hiro-kun!" she waved. "Saiya-chan!"

"First summer Festival, what do you think?" Hiro asked offering his arm to Hermione.

"It's fantastic!" Hermione gingerly took Hiro's arm. "I can't wait till the shrine offering! I read all abo-I might be the single dullest person alive..."

"You're not," Hiro smiled. "And you don't have to wait much longer! It'll be starting soon. Then after that is the fireworks!"

Hiro didn't lie. Once the group had been fully assembled they immediately made their way up to the southern shrine. They walked double-file through the large western garden following the lit path and floating paper lanterns after the professors. Igawa no Kagome lead the procession, but walked along side the cobbled path rather than on it. She was followed on the path by Yamato-sama Sensei and the rest of the school.

The garden came to life in the blue and orange glow of the lanterns, the foiliage and water glistening and reflecting a sparkle into the starlit sky. Hermione suspected some sort of magic prevented the light pollution from blocking the stars, making the whole scene appear more like a dream than something in real-life. She hoped that doing this every July-end before she was twenty wouldn't disillusion her from the beauty of it all.

The procession ended and everyone filed neatly into lines of ten in front of the shrine. Haruna-sama and Yamato-sama handed out onigiri to each of the students to offer on the shrine. She gave thanks and watched as everyone came up one at a time to leave their offering and say a silent prayer. She'd read in muggle novels about how certain experiences were "magical", growing up in a magic school meant she never fully understood the metaphor, but she thought she did now. It was so serene and surreal at the same time, like a dream that didn't end with a reminder she could never be wanted.

"Psst!" Hiro whispered in her ear. "It's your turn!"

"Oh!" she whispered back. "Thanks!"

Hermione walked up to the shrine, knelt and placed her onigiri down before clapping her hands together and bowing her head. _A bountiful harvest and calm typhoon season._ A safe autumn, she wished for that here, but back home as well. She rose from her knees and joined Hiro and the others in their row.

"The fireworks are starting soon!" Miyuki cried. "Where are Anya-chan and Kaori-chan?"

"Dunno," Toshio shrugged. "Sam?"

"I haven't seen them," he shrugged. "Saiyaka?"

"No," she shook her head sitting up.

"They'll be here in time," Hiro said offering his hand to help Hermione up. "Oh, erm, Hermione, do you have a moment?"

Hermione nodded, got to her feet and kicked her geta back onto her feet. She followed Hiro away from the group, her hand still in his. They found themselves alone under a massive maple tree. Hiro smiled and took her other hand sending a furious blush to her face.

"You said you don't handle crowds or loud noises well, right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded turning her face to the tree's roots. She thought back to muggle Tokyo and embarrasment washed over her. She wanted to blame her life as a shut in, but as always wondered if she were just a coward. She felt like a child... _You_ are _a child, idiot!_

"I know you've probably read about them," Hiro explained. "But fireworks are _loud_. And we didn't exactly choose a place that'll be just us. All the best spots will be crowded. I, erm, just thought you might want a warning."

Hermione did in fact read all about fireworks as soon as she realised she'd be attending a Matsuri festival at the school. She knew what to expect, but if the past year taught her anything, there was a huge difference between reading about a thing, and experiencing it.

"Thank you," she bowed. "I really appreciate that."

"Oh, I also made something for you!" Hiro said.

"Oh, Hiro-kun, you shouldn't have, I-I don't h-"

"I didn't expect anything," he explained presenting her with a scroll.

Hermione opened the scroll to find a coloured painting of a three white lilies surrounded by sakura with the kanji for friendship written beneath it. "Hiro-kun, this is _beautiful!_ "

Hiro opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head and smiled. "We should get back to the group."

"Thank you, Hiro-kun," Hermione nodded after furling the scroll and placing it in her bag. "Let's go!"

"Finally!" Miyuki called as they returned. "Kaori-chan and Anya came back just in time for you love-birds to go missing!"

"N-na-" Hermione stammered.

"Now I know my little brother isn't announcing an unexpected romance when I am!" Kaori teased holding hands with Anya, who beamed brightly at her.

"You and Anya?" Hiro asked. "After three years, it's about time!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Kaori stuck her tongue out.

A loud sound peirced their laughter with a whistling before a loud bang echoing through the beach. Hermione gasped and felt Hiro take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. From her other side she felt Saiyaka squeeze her other hand. She felt her heart beat slow and she turned her eyes to the star-spangled sky with orange, red, green, blue and yellow blooms of light exploding in the sky. After that initial pop, Hermione settled,and enjoyed the fireworks with her freinds around her.

If Hermione lived a thousand years, she was certain she'd remember this night.


	17. Book 2: Gilderoy Lockhart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione returns to Hogwarts in August. She and Snape along with the rest of the staff contend with the bloated ego of the new DADA professor

Severus expected to collect a home-sick mess when he entered Tokyo, but was instead met with a bright, beaming girl sitting on the ground with her friends giggling over something or other. He remembered her saying she was nervous about her Japanese, but to hear her respond to the siblings' jokes, or make comments, he never would have known it.

Hermione was horribly jet-lagged, but did seem the better for her month away. She hadn't spent a single night away since he brought her home swaddled in a little pink blanket. Yet she seemed to have legitimately enjoyed her month away. He listened intently as she told him about the month, happy to receive more than a couple of sentences followed by a "have to go!". He noted immediately that she mentioned a number of people not mentioned in her letters. In fact, it seemed she had more friends from Japan now than she did in Hogwarts. That he didn't expect. He had expected her to cling tenaciously to a select few, despite their treatment of her, and to be even more confused socially than she had been in September.

"So, you were quite happy, I take it?" he asked nursing his tea.

"Yeah," Hermione gave a weak smile and her tired eyes looked off into the distance. "I was."

He mused for a moment not really wanting to ask, but if she was happier..."Hermione?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Would you say you were happier there than here?"

"Heavens no!" Hermione scoffed, her half open eyes now fully opening. "I did love it there, really, but I couldn't do it all year. I'd miss being able to speak English, understanding humour without asking for clarification, and I do have friends here...And I _might_ miss you as well."

He smirked and set his hand on the top of her head. "Might? Thought you'd at least be thirteen before I became trivial."

This earned a giggle from Hermione before she stifled another yawn with her hand. "Is it really only three? I think it was actually easier to adjust going there than coming back."

"Probably because you arrived at night before you would sleep," he suggested. "It's what? Midnight Tokyo time?"

"Something like that," she sighed. "Though it's normal for me to be up this late doing homework. Seven subjects, four clubs, all while trying to keep up on the language. Sleep was optional."

 _And yet you look healthier..._ "I know we talked about that, love," he sighed. "But I'm not going to waste my breath lecturing you if you can't be bothered listening."

"It's not that I can't be bothered," Hermione shrugged. "I'm capable of prioritizing. If I thought it was harmful, I'd re-prioritize."

 _I doubt it, but I'm not going to antagonize you on your first full day back._ "So, no reservations about going back next year?"

Hermione shook her head with a faint smile. "I'm looking forward to going back, actually."

"And yet you don't want to spend the year there?" Severus asked.

"I already told you I didn't and why," Hermione sighed but to his surprise leaned in close with a smirk. "So I don't care if there's a serial killer prowling the corridors and if I'm an exact match for their victimology, I want to do my school year here."

"That's not even remotely funny, Hermione Elizabeth!" he snapped. "Honestly, after last year, you of _all people_ should know better!"

"Sorry!" Hermione shrank back into her chair. "You're right. I wasn't thinking..."

"Evidently," he said. "Though I'm not too worried. The only new addition, aside from first years, to the school this year is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he can't seem to tear his eyes from a mirror long enough to plot anyone's downfall. Yes, I imagine you'll be quite safe this year."

"Maybe the gods will take pity on him and turn him into a flower?" Hermione suggested.

"A daffodil might make for a better teacher," he mused.

"Is he really _that_ bad?" Hermione asked between giggles.

How he missed that laugh. Sure, Hermione wasn't the happiest child, but she had her moments, and when she did she had simply no idea how contagious it was. He would never tell her, but she was truly the only good thing in his life. A pressure not to put on an already nervous child. He remembered her clinging to his arm in Tokyo, she seemed so scared that he'd wanted to call the whole thing off. But it wasn't just that. He wished it was. But he knew he wanted to keep her around, and the proof that sending her away had been good for her...it was hard to swallow.

"Let's just say," he said. "That I seriously considered seeing to your education in the subject myself after reading his books. Meeting him only reinforced that the need for it."

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes drifted off to the side. She was so transparent he wondered how she ever got away with half the things she did in the previous year.

"However, despite my every instinct," he continued rising and venturing to a bookshelf. "I have decided not to. On the condition you supplement your readings with the standard book for the subject."

"Yessir," she nodded taking the book dropped in front of her. "Thank you."

"You should know," he set his hand on the top of her head again. "I'm relieved you actually _want_ to be here."

* * *

A week passed and Hermione adjusted to the time-zone and summer alone, more or less, with her father. Though she had been given free reign before eight, which she once again used mostly in the library. What wasn't normal was the influx birds that came through the week. She expected letters from Hiro, Ron, and the twins, but she had also received letters from Saiyaka, Toshio, Kaori, Miyuki, Anya and Sam.

"Someone's popular," her father teased over one lunch. "Don't think I've ever seen so many birds in one week. To think I was ever worried you hid in the library all month."

"You're kind of right, that is where we spent most of our time."

"Why am I not surprised?" he smirked. "I can imagine you lot met stalking around the stacks?"

Hermione burst into laughter covering her mouth as she thought about the attempt to capture the library bandit. He was so close and so far, which she was fine with. She'd rather keep her misadventures in Japan to herself. They were hers, and the stack of letters on her bedside table told her that the ones she shared them with actually liked her. She only wished she played more of a roll in the whole case, though now Hiro could feel like something was his.

"Hermione?" her father looked perplexed.

"Sorry!" Hermione regained her composure and made herself sit straight. "I was just reminded of something that happened back in Japan. You, erm, kind of had to be there..."

"I see," he sighed, examining her.

 _Does he seem...sad?_ she thought looking into his face, neutral in expression, but something about his eyes communicated some level of, maybe disappointment? Maybe she should have been more forth-coming in her letters rather than simply giving him broad-strokes. Now that she mentioned it, she had not mentioned any of her friends by name until she had been brought back. She should have given him _something_ about her life back there while she was away. Maybe then there'd be less "you had to be there's"...

"It's fine, love," he said as if reading her thoughts. "You were bound to have plenty of moments like that. If you're going to feel guilty about anything, perhaps it should be the vague two sentence reports you saw fit to send while you were away."

 _Ouch!_ But he was right. Hermione bowed her head "Sorry, Dad."

"Just agree to write more next year, eh?" he placed his hand on her head.

"I will," she promised.

_Speaking of not writing enough...I see Harry ghosting me, but it's weird he's not written Ron all summer..._

* * *

_Ron,_

_I'm glad to hear you're enjoying your summer. No, I haven't heard from Harry either, and I'm starting to worry! I figured you two would have kept in touch, so you are right, it is odd. My fingers are crossed that things changed since last you wrote. I'm kind of stuck here, so my best advice would be to maybe see if Fred and George can cook something up? I'm not sure...anyway, I'll see if I can come up with anything from here._

_I won't be able to meet up with you guys before school, I'm afraid. Dad's picked up everything I need while I was in Japan. But I can't wait to meet you guys in September! Hope all is well!_

_Cheers,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Hiro,_

_You and your family must be excited for Obon! Glad to hear your August is going well! Yeah, I imagine no summer homework is a great advantage of being a transfer student. Sorry to hear you guys are swamped. One step at a time, I guess. It's wonderful to hear Kaori and Anya are still so happy even though Anya's back in Bremerhaven! You and Toshio hanging out must make this summer break much less lonely. I'm so jealous of the photography hikes you two are taking! Mount Fuiji is supposed to be gorgeous! I'm happy you two are hanging out again, I know how lonely you were last summer. It's fantastic you've gotten the old gang back together, even if it was awkward._

_If you're feeling overwhelmed with your homework try spacing it out? Where Toshio's staying with you, study group? Just don't leave it till the last day. I promise you'll regret it if you do._

_I can't wait to hear more from you!_

_Love,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Saiyaka,_

_You must be so excited to be visiting Kyoto for a week! I've read so much about it! I know it might but a dent to the rhythm you've set with your summer homework, but if anyone deserves a break, it's you! At least you've started your break homework, so that's something. Both you and your sister were top of your year thus far in your perspective schools? That's incredible! I remember how hard you worked, you've definitely earned it! Sorry to hear you both are fighting though..._

_My advice? I have no siblings, but have you tried asking her why she was mad at you? You only have thirty days together, so they shouldn't be wasted on stupid rows. At the very least, you deserve to know why she's mad at you. If that doesn't work, you tried. That's all you can do.  
_

_Keep me posted._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

* * *

She decided to reply to everyone else later. Exhausted trying to come up with solutions to a multitude of problems from kilometres away, Hermione took to the first of _ten_ books by Gilderoy Lockhart for DADA. She sighed reading through the preface of _Voyages with Vampires._ She decided that Lockhart had to be a great wizard to justify such narcissism. Surely, an adult couldn't be capable of such completely unwarranted confidence? After so many years one _had_ to develop a sense of self-awareness, right?

There was nothing really worth taking notes on in the preface, which she could make an exception on her rule about having at least three points every paragraph. She could bare to do it with a preface. But once she got into the meat of the book... _it was all wrong!_ The man detailed trivial matters like his favourite colour, the age he was, a childhood memory the trek reminded him of, etc. Sure, if it were better composed it might make for a good story, but Hermione and the others were supposed to learn DADA from it. What the hell was she supposed to take notes on? _She had to have at least three per paragraph._ She didn't know why, but she was _certain_ she'd fail if she didn't.

She straightened out her quill, inkwell perpendicular to her note book before marking her page between the second and third chapters. If she could cross-reference with other books on Eastern European Vampires, she'd be able to come up with something. There just _had_ to be usable content in the book. The professor surely wouldn't have chosen it if there wasn't...she hoped.

 _A daffodil might make for a better_ teacher... Hermione was used to her father forming harsh opinions on which ever DADA professor was appointed, but this was exceptionally harsh...maybe it wasn't completely unfounded this time around?

Hermione rounded the corner to find she wasn't alone in the library. A younger man, late twenties, early thirties, with curly gold hair and impeccably dressed in peacock blue robes scanned the shelf. _Must be the new professor._ She didn't know what he was looking for, and moved to leave the stacks when he turned to face her.

"Oh my," the man said. "I didn't know their were students around during the summer!"

He was exceptionally pretty, she gave him that. He had pale unblemished skin, smiling eyes that matched the blue of his robes and hat, and a slender but not too thin physique as well as eerily white perfect teeth. He looked like a... _Shit! That's Gilderoy Lockhart!_

"Erm," Hermione backed up. "Sorry to bother, I'll come back later!"

 _What the hell, Dumbledore hired the Gilderoy Lockhart?...if the synopses of those books are right then...he's done so many_ amazing _things...something I hope to figure out soon._

"You must be Severus's little girl!" he asked but it sounded like a declaration. "You must forgive me, Harmony, you two don't look much alike! ( _Haven't heard that one before!)_ Back from China, I see!"

"Japan, actually," Hermione explained feeling an opinion on the man form independent of the meandering chapters she'd just read. _How the hell did you mix those two up?! And Harmony? Not even remotely similar! No, give him a chance, maybe I misheard him._

"Ah, Japan," he mused still smiling. "A lovely country. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't reached out to me personally about the position here I would have gone myself. I would like to tackle a Cheonyeo Gwisin!"

"That's a Korean spirit, sir," Hermione mumbled. _Is Asia all one country to you? That's like going to Egypt to fight a Tokoloshe! Though he might lump all Africa together too...Is he_ still _smiling?_

"Monsters know no borders, little Harmony," he beamed.

 _But most recognize a sea!_ "Erm, it's Hermione, sir."

"Of course, Hermione!" he chuckled. "Exactly what I said. You must have misheard me."

"Must have," Hermione said with a fake smile. "I'm actually passed my curfew, so I'll be off!"

Hermione gathered her things and left the library, in a way happy for the intolerable interaction. Had he not been such a bloody git, or they had met after Hermione read the books in full, she could see herself being quite taken by his supposed accomplishments.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_Sorry, we got your letter the day after we got our school things! You will not believe what happened! Or you will if you read the prophet...so you probably do. Great Git Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books at Flourish and Bots and as soon as he found Harry in the crowd, he singled him out and brought him to take pictures. Made up some rubbish about Harry wanting his auto-biography and gave him all his books for free. Might have been nice if it wasn't a press stunt!_

_Which of course got Malfoy's attention, he said some awful things, and his father swooped in. Let me tell you, Hermione, his father is just as bad as he is! If not worse. Makes me so proud Dad decked him right outside the book store! Mum was furious, but it was the highlight of my summer!_

_Harry said he reckons now that you're back home Snape won't let any of his letters through to you, so he says he'll explain in person why he didn't write.  
_

_See you later,_

_Ron._

* * *

"I met Harmony the other day," Lockhart said. "An awkward child. I do hope she grows out of it."

"Oh, yes, she told me _all_ about it," Severus said dismissively wishing Dumbledore would start the damn meeting. _And_ _I believe the words she used to describe you were 'egotistic, arrogant, ignorant prat' and that she 'would rather be taught by a potted plant'...that's my girl._ "And if _Hermione_ seemed awkward, I'm certain it was simply because you seemed out of place."

"Ah, yes," the man gave an arrogant smile. "I imagine she's wondering what someone like myself is doing teaching at a school."

"Oh, I'm sure many of us are thinking that," Severus replied.

McGonagall shushed the others as they began sniggering like children and she herself had been failing to fight a smirk. This was particularly odd, one week so far with the man and the whole staff body seemed as put out by Lockhart as he was. Hermione predicted he wouldn't last past December, something he wasn't surprised by, but the gleam in her eyes imagining him gone did. Perhaps he should have felt sorry for the man, he knew exactly what it was like to exist without a soul giving a damn whether you lived or died...but he was, to use his daughter's terms, 'an egotistic arrogant prat'. _And here I thought she was a poor judge of character!_

"Perhaps we should begin?" Dumbledore chuckled. "I think outside of last year's strange circumstances, we had a successful year, no one failed out, no one got expelled, and we are currently exceeding ministry's academic performance requirements. Which means our focus this year is the welfare of our students. I think we're on the right track there, our students are as safe, happy and healthy as any other group of boarding teenagers out there. Now, despite that some of our professors have brought forth issues. You have the floor, Minevra."

"Thank you, Albus..." McGonagall shifted her stack of papers and addressed the staff.

For someone as strict, hard to please and quick to discipline, McGonagall had quite a bit to say about the emotional welfare of the students and their duty not to harm it. There were veiled references to complaints the school received from parents of students in lower years, or rumoured incidents that he recognized were about him for the most part. Trelawney, Vector and Kettleburne all bowed their heads to avoid McGonagall's withering glare. Flitwick and Sprout were soon mentioned, not by name, but by role as she told them what the heads of houses should be doing to monitor their students' welfare. He wondered what brought on the sudden interest in taking on the role parents were supposed to, but remembered that Neville Longbottom was in her house. A talentless, lazy boy whose only gift was to be greatly pitied by a number of professors and a handful of students...including his daughter.

McGonagall's pleas for attention to students' emotional states were rich, considering her treatment of students in his house. Many students had been convinced by their parents that ending up in Slytherin meant one was evil. He didn't think she believed _that_ , however, she was happy to antagonise students that were antagonised by everyone else at large. These were children who had to be convinced that the world outside their small circle cared for them, but were instead showed otherwise. _Though you're not much better are you? And you can't say that your favouritism comes from that alone, now, can you? You stupid piece of shit._

"We can always hold events through out the year!" Lockhart suggested, despite McGonagall having moved to the next item on her agenda.

"There's a question and suggestion period between each speaker, Gilderoy," McGonagall cast a look that Severus had been familiar with since he was a boy.

"Right, my apologies, old girl!" he obliviously beamed.

"I have two names," McGonagall told him, nostrils flaring. "You may use either one of those."

"We're trusting that man to teach children!" Severus hissed as the meeting let out.

"I assure you, a number of people have said the same about you, Severus," McGonagall snapped. "But I do agree with him, Albus. Why him?"

"I imagine he'll have a great deal more to teach than DADA," Dumbledore smiled with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"If it's too late to find a suitable candidate, headmaster," Severus said. "Hermione has made the exquisite suggestion of a potted plant."

The three of them turned their eyes to see the peacocking silhouette disappearing down the corridor talking the ear off of poor Flitwick and broke into subdued laughter.

"And she came to that conclusion _entirely_ on her own, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"Hermione is perfectly capable of forming her own thoughts," he tried not to snap. "Her abysmal taste in friends is more than enough proof of that. I assure you, headmaster, all she needed was one interaction with the man to come to that conclusion on her own."

McGonagall sighed. "I was worried that every girl would be blinded to his, erm, areas of weakness."

 _"My_ little girl is far too smart for such nonsense," Severus turned to Dumbledore. "I think we are both _very_ interested in what his areas of strength are, headmaster."

"Yes, I do believe it's high-time I fill you two in," Dumbledore nodded. "Come up to my office and I'll tell you my plan."

* * *

"Such a studious child," Lockhart beamed sitting on the table Hermione had been trying to work on. "Tell me, Hermione, do you spend every day couped up in the library?"

_At least he got my name right._

Harassing Hermione became his new way of staving off loneliness while the other professors set about their actual work. This was the last day he would find Hermione here during the summer. She was determined not to listen to another lecture about how universally admired he was. She patiently nodded and smiled providing pensive hmms and haws at appropriate moments in his speech. He really did like the sound of his own voice.

"And that is why you should always pack an extra hair brush when you travel."

"Yes, simply fascinating, professor," Hermione said. "But as riveting as that is, I really must go."

Hermione sped down the corridor as quickly as she could without running, her eyes firmly planted in her copy of _Standard Book of Spells_ _Grade 2._ If Lockhart called after her, she was simply absorbed in her book. She was on the chapter on movement charms when she bumped into something rather soft and solid.

"Oh! Professor," Hermione panicked picking up her book. "I am _so so_ sorry!"

"I recommend reading in the library, not while walking about the corridors." McGonagall chastised. "Can you even read at the pace you were keeping?"

"Sorry!" she said again. "I'll keep better mind of my surroundings. Are you okay?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes at this. "I'm not so old and fragile that a girl half my size will break me."

"Sorry, Professor," she bit her lip. "I didn't mean, I, erm, I-I-did I mention I was sorry?"

"You did," McGonagall sighed. "Eyes up, girl. I can't have Gryffindor's top student afraid of her own shadow, can I?"

"Yes, professor," Hermione nodded. _I'm not afraid of my own shadow._ "Erm, professor?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything you need help with?" she asked too quickly. "Filing, sorting, inventory, anything? There was so much for me to help with last summer."

"So eager to please," McGonagall smiled placing a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm afraid not. You have one week of summer vacation left, go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. If you don't you'll regret it when you're my age!"

"Erm, professor," she said. "If you're heading to the library, _he's_ in there and looking for anything with two ears for company."

"Thank you, Hermione!" McGonagall whispered before turning on her heels.

* * *

"You're such a sweet little girl," Professor Sprout smiled pinching Hermione's cheeks. "But I really don't need any help. Go outside and play!"

Hermione left the greenhouse frustrated but with the understanding that Sprout wanted her work to keep her busy until students arrived to avoid Lockhart. She b-lined for Hagrid's hut.

"I'd love ter have yer help, Hermione," Hagrid smiled. "But I'm afraid I have some very dangerous beasts ter wrangle. Can't be bringin' an underage witch with me. No matter how clever."

"I can mind Fang!"

"Takin' Fang with me, Hermione. Enjoy yer summer while it lasts or you'll regret it when yer my age, I reckon!"

Every other teacher she could find gave her the same response. Where was the concern for enjoying her childhood when she was scrambling over herself to get a million things done? Couldn't her father have at least set her up with a million pointless things to do? He was good at that. Hermione couldn't even hide in the secret passage off the library with Pince floating around busying herself to keep from engaging Lockhart.

She decided to make her way back home and decided to ask her father again for busy work when he finished his meeting with Dumbledore. He'd be thrilled she still wanted to volunteer, even if he picked up on why. And it wasn't like she _didn't_ want to help her father...till then she could study on her own there, safe from meandering stories.

* * *

"Inventory's done!" Hermione presented him with a complete and detailed list in very legible writing.

"Thank you, love," Severus said combing over her work. "Though given that you only had a few short weeks to get through your reading list, I must say I'm curious as to why you volunteered."

"Can I not want to help my poor father?" Hermione asked sitting opposite him and set to work stripping willow roots.

"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he mused storing his own roots into a jar. "Just tell me you've finished your class readings before you started trolling around for things to do."

"Yes, sir, I did," she nodded stripping the next root.

"I suppose I should have figured that," he said, his eyes drifted to the book . "So if I asked you how to immobilize an one large assailant or a group of small assailants...?"

" _Immobilus,"_ Hermione answered.

"How do you recognize if a person is confounded?"

"Flat or giggly affect, hard time forming sentences, and doesn't recognize inconsistencies in their own accounts when questioned."

Severus mused for a moment before setting his knife down and leaning in, she would never be tested on his next question, but she needed to know.. "How can you ensure the person you're dealing with is truthful?"

"Oh, erm," Hermione mused for a bit. She stared at her roots and bit her lip before muttering: "I mean, erm, I guess there's vereserum, but that has its own pitfalls...legillimancy, but I'd be hopeless there at my age...lie detecting artifacts...though they aren't entirely reliable...I, erm, I-I'm afraid I, erm, don't know, sir."

"That's because it was a trick question," he admitted placing his hand on her head. "All of the things you mentioned are decent tools, but there is no substitute for being observant. Keep your wits about you, love, and you might be safe. The _instant_ you even think you notice something odd, I want you to find me. It very well might be nothing, but I'm not finding out you've put yourself in mortal danger after the fact again."

"You said it yourself, Dad," Hermione said. "This is going to be a normal year. I'll be perfectly safe...assuming Professor Lockhart doesn't cause me to beat my head against a wall so hard I sustain brain damage. Do you think he'll be more tolerable if I do that?"

"My dear, no amount of brain damage will make that man tolerable," he sighed. "Tell me that wasn't your strategy for dealing with Potter and Weasley?"

"You _promised_ you'd give those two a chance, Dad," Hermione pleaded.

"And for you, I will," he brushed her hair from her eyes. "But you should know that those boys are on _very_ thin ice."

"Then I guess it's a good thing absolutely nothing is going to happen," Hermione said.

_Somehow I doubt it..._


	18. B2: Flying Cars and Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to sneak Harry and Ron into the school when she finds them. Snape searches for the boys after hearing word of flying cars and notes his daughter's conspicuous absence at the sorting feast.

Hermione lingered by the entrance hall, craning her neck to try and make people out from the cluster that poured out of the carriages. As the figures descended upon the hall, Hermione spied three very tall red heads with a boy wearing dreadlocks. She squeezed between the masses, apologizing if she came into contact with anyone and found Lee Jordan and the elder Weasley boys.

"Hi, Hermione!" Fred beamed.

"Our baby brother not with you?" George asked.

"I was here from the start," she explained. "So I didn't need to take the train in. I thought he and Harry might be with you."

"No," George mused.

"Don't think I've seen them since we crossed the barrier." Fred mused.

"They'll turn up somewhere, Hermione," Percy said pushing up his glasses. "I should get going." he called out over her shoulder. "Penny! Wait up."

"Let's talk DADA Pool," George whispered mischievously.

"I want to wait until we have classes with the new teacher before I bet," Lee explained.

"That's not a bad idea," Hermione agreed. "Spent all month with him and I can't gauge his tenacity...Wait! You haven't seen them at all? What if they're still in London?"

"I had an owl come in saying your two idiots were flying a car to school!" a voice giggled.

Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson clinging to Draco Malfoy's arm. Pansy was a bit taller than Malfoy with long black hair tied back in a green scrunchie, and a mean glimmer in her brown eyes. Malfoy was a bit smaller than average, very pale with white-blond hair and a permanent sneer on his pointed face. The two were made for each other, though despite Hermione's first impressions, Pansy wasn't unilaterally cruel like Malfoy was.

"That's rubbish, Pansy," Hermione rolled her eyes. _After begging them to not give my father a reason to go after them, it better be!_ "I doubt I can think of anyone that thick!"

"It's in the paper! Look on the bright side," Malfoy sneered. "Once Potter and Weasley are expelled you'll only have Longbottom to mind!"

"Until he fails out!" Pansy laughed.

"Oh, Pansy," Hermione cooed. "We've certainly studied together enough for me to know you should focus on your own studies."

"Oh, sweetie," Pansy mimicked her cooing. "At least I have things to focus on outside of studies, but I'm sure it'll come in time."

 _Sweetie? Far cry from stupid ugly bitch._ It seemed her father's position bought her false civility from the Slytherins. Pansy had been terribly cruel to Hermione when they first met, but as soon as Pansy learned her last name, she tried to make a show of friendship. Which ended with the girls using each other. Hermione couldn't tell if this were good or bad. It was exhausting to keep up the facade and all three of them were clueless as to which of them had more power in the relationship.

"Fred, George, Hermione!" Neville called waving from the distance.

Shock widened his blue eyes and his round face paled as he saw Pansy and Malfoy turning their cruel eyes toward him.

"Let's go, Pansy," Malfoy said. "I can feel my IQ getting lower with each new addition."

"Ignore those gits, Neville," George said.

"I personally don't think it's possible for Malfoy's IQ to dip any further," Fred added.

"He's a little bitch," Hermione mused. "But he's still clever and connected enough to make our lives hell. Don't be afraid of them, Neville, but you do need to be careful."

Neville's face went pink and he nodded with a gulp. _I am a stupid piece of shit! Why'd I say that?_

"Shall we head in?" Fred asked.

"Go ahead," Hermione smiled. "I'll catch up to you guys."

* * *

There was a tree close to the Great Hall's window. If Harry and Ron came up, she was certain Ron would want to see where his sister was sorted. She climbed into the tree and hid among it's bushy foliage, keeping her eyes glued to the starry sky. All she had to do was watch and wait for a car to land on the ground, get their attention and sneak them into a school praised for its security without a soul noticing. Nothing too difficult... _  
_

That was when she saw it. Headlights blot out the stars and bathed the yard in their yellow glow, the car very loudly putting as it streaked across the sky. _How does anyone hide_ that?! _Keep calm and wait for them to land._

That was when the car came crashing into the Whomping Willow like a giant blue brick sending timbers and car parts into the night. _Shit!_ The tree reacted to the threat trying to throw the car out of its branches, swinging its free branches to wail on the unknown assailants. Hermione jumped to attention at the first metallic crunch that echoed through the night. She scrambled down the tree and drew her wand. She ran to the car, still trying to evade attention, keeping to walls, plants and shadows. She should have just ran to them, but she couldn't make herself obey her mind. At least this time she was moving.

Once she got to the tree she cast a shrinking curse on a number of the branches, minimizing their impact on the car. Once the car was no longer being pounded relentlessly, teetered on the its precarious perch an fell out of the tree. _Shit! Do something, something..._

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

That didn't cause the car to float like smaller objects she had practised with, but it did soften the blow as it came to the ground. It landed centimetres from Hermione's feet. Through the cracked windscreen Harry and Ron exchanged shocked glances, their pale faces standing out in the dark interior. That was when all four doors sprang open and some force threw Harry, Ron and their luggage out on the grass before speeding off into the forest.

"Are you guys, okay?" Hermione whispered kneeling next to Ron.

"Mum's going to _murder me_..." Ron gulped. "What're you-"

"Helping," she whispered. "Keep your voice low."

"What," Harry asked finding his feet "Was _that!"_

"Whomping Willow," she explained gathering the boys' luggage into one neat pile. "It's been here as long as I can remember. What was that spell again, oh!" and Hermione sent the luggage and Hedwig to the Gryffindor tower. "It'll be easier getting you into the school without-"

"What did you just do?" Ron said, his blue eyes wide and fixed at the spot where his luggage was.

"Sent it to Gryffindor tower," Hermione explained.

"Wait, Whomping Willow?" Harry asked.

"A very violent tree planted here a long time ago. It attacks perceived threats to itself. Don't know why it's even here. We should go. Do you have the invisibility cloak?"

"I did," Harry said. "But you sent it to Gryffindor tower."

"Shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead.

* * *

A ringing filled Severus's ears and he knew exactly what was responsible for it. _That girl is going to_ regret _this once I'm done with Potter and Weasley!_ He drew his wand and silently cast the counterspell before closing his eyes to figure out where the sound was coming from. If he was affected by the spell, they were very close, indeed.

"Not everyone's fluent in Hermione!" A boy-Weasley- hissed.

He followed the sounds of their voices knowing Hermione would assume her spell was still in effect. The conversation continued down the corridor, and he saw why Hermione felt the need to use the spell in the first place.

Hermione's voice hissed something back that he couldn't make out, but whatever it was, it offended Weasley.

"Not knowing what you mean by waving your hands around doesn't make me an idiot. If you're so bloody angry with us why are you even bothering helping us? And we told you what happened! I don't even know why you're angry!"

"I _begged_ you two not to give my father anything else to use against you this year and you _flew a car_ into school on the first day!" Hermione's voice became shrill. "And I had _somehow_ convinced him to give you another chance. That's not something I'm going to convince him of a second time."

"Hermione," Potter ventured. "It wasn't like we were looking to make trouble. We didn't know what else to do."

"If only you had access to an owl and someone to receive it at the school to go get help!" Hermione hissed before softening her voice, "I don't understand wh-"

"Oh, skip the lecture!" Weasley snapped.

"Sorry," she sighed. "I don't think either of you two are idiots, I-"

"Could have fooled me," Weasley groaned.

"I just wish you thought about it a little more before you decided that was your only option. I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed. Let's just get the hell out of here before you're found. If my father knows he'll be out for blood."

That was when he rounded the corner to find the three of them, Hermione's back to him, and the two boys gaped up at him looking as if the reaper himself appeared before them. Hermione on the other hand buried her head in her hands and grumbled.

"There's a professor right behind me, isn't there?"

"And apparently one that's 'out for blood'," he said coolly. "Though he may settle for an explanation for why you boys weren't on the train? It must be _very_ good to have convinced _my daughter_ to throw away everything to sneak them into the school."

Hermione now turned to face him, but her eyes were still firmly set on her feet.

"Right," he said. "Follow me."

* * *

"Sit down," her father barked.

The three of them obeyed silently, and Hermione noticed her father did not do the same. She imagined he would pace around them or lean over them to really lean into the power imbalance between them. Hermione was the only person he ever made an effort to be eye-level with, and never while he was angry. And her father was very angry at the moment.

Hermione listened in silence while her father entered a monologue about how the train wasn't "cool enough for Harry Potter and his sidekick", and all the damage they'd caused. It was a monologue because he silenced any attempt on Harry or Ron's part to clarify the situation. Hermione suddenly felt very bad about snapping at them.

"Where's the car?" he asked.

Ron gulped before exchanging a confused look with Harry. Hermione sat on Ron's left staring at her clasped hands as she dug her nails into them. Were they expelled? What would happen after that? Hermione wondered if they might have gotten more than half-way to Gryffindor tower if she had not been there to hinder them. Would their expulsion be her fault? _Don't be ridiculous! McGonagall won't expel them! And if she would, she would either way. You were sneaking them in to avoid this...Fat lot of good that did!_

Her father produced a news paper and Hermione realized Draco Malfoy had been very, very right. Hermione's stomach churned as he read the article aloud. "Do you boys have _any_ idea what you've done? The ministry is under fire by the press. I believe your father works in the department of Muggle Artifacts?" he tutted. "His own son... well, your father and I might have something in common after tonight." He turned to Hermione at that. "Can you imagine, little girl? A child betraying the trust of their father and his coworkers? Poor Arthur Weasley must be profoundly disappointed."

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails in deeper. If his goal was to make her feel guilty, he succeeded.

"At least the Department of Muggle Artifacts didn't see Weasley grow from infancy!" he spat. "Sneaking people into the castle, undermining security measures we have worked so hard to set up! I assure you, I am not the only one who is _shocked and disgusted_ by your behaviour!"

Hermione felt every muscle in her body tense involuntarily and stared firmly at the ground. What had she done? She didn't spare Harry and Ron any trouble and she just destroyed any attempts she and her father had made over the summer to re-build trust. How the hell could she have been so damn stupid? _Don't you dare fucking cry...it'll make everything worse!_ She felt something wet on the tips of her fingers after a sharp pain on the back of her hands. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

"And you were doing so well since you returned too..." her father sighed. "Month's detention should set you straight if I can rescue you from _expulsion_. You boys destroy everything you touch, don't you? _She_ had a future. Since you idiots aren't in Slytherin I can't expel you, so I shall fetch those who do possess that happy power. And don't expect Professor McGonagall to be _stupid_ enough to fall for whatever sob story you fed my child!" he turned to Hermione. "I don't know if I can convince her not to expel you as well. Even with your test scores, I won't be able to convince a single headmaster to take you if she does!"

"Wow," Ron breathed at after the door slammed. " _How_ did you survive twelve years of _that?"_

"H-he, erm, he's not normally like this..." Hermione squeaked. "At least not with me, erm, not often...I'm the one that messed up-"

"He's _really_ done a number on your brain, hasn't he?" Ron scoffed.

Hermione bit her lip and sat in silence not wanting to tell him how right he was. She still didn't trust her own memories. She silently reviewed every moment with her father for inconsistencies.

"What do you reckon will happen?" Harry asked no one in particular.

"No one's going to expel you, Harry," Hermione lifted her eyes from the floor to meet their gaze. "If I'm honest, I'm more worried about Ron."

"Why?" Ron knit his red eyebrows, and twisted his mouth in thought.

"We _really fucked up_ here, Ron," Hermione explained between controlled breaths. "You were _seen,_ that breaks the statute of secrecy, and I snuck you in after the fact. I've seen a student nearly be expelled for less. We're probably done here..."

Harry narrowed his green eyes and examined her face. "Why wouldn't I be expelled too?"

"You still don't know, do you?" Hermione asked returning her gaze to the floor. "You're, erm, Harry, you're like the second coming of Merlin and Jesus all rolled into one in our world. Expelling you would be _suicide_ for the school's reputation."

"B-but that hardly seems fair," Harry said.

"It's not," Hermione agreed venturing eye contact. "Life's not fair. You know that better than the rest of us."

Harry nodded solemnly, his face pale as if he didn't quite buy that he was safe and Ron stared at Harry a mix of pity and fear flashing across his freckled face. She wondered what would happen to her if she were expelled. She knew it wouldn't be easy for Ron, but after a while he might adjust to a less than ideal life with his family. At least she hoped. But if she were expelled...she imagined life confined to her living quarters with her father constantly looming over her, reminding her that she threw everything away _for nothing_. She shuddered and cast her eyes back to the ground. Nothing was exactly what she accomplished.

"Mum's going to flay me," Ron whispered.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said.

"No, mate," he sighed. "You told me the car was bad idea..."

"What's going to happen to you?" Harry asked.

A silence passed, she had expected Ron to answer his question, but instead when she heard his voice it was saying: "Hello, earth to Hermione!"

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione squeaked. "I, erm, thought Harry was talking to you. Erm, I expect I'll be fine."

"Really?" Harry and Ron asked skeptically.

"Honestly, you two!" she groaned. "It's like you think he's a monster!"

"Well," Ron ventured. "He did-"

"Save Harry's life last year," she said. "And oh! Raised me on his-"

"Oh, come off it!" Ron sent his eyes to heaven with a groan. "Were you dropped on the head as a baby?"

"Weasley," a cold voice said behind him. "I knew you were an idiot, but I hadn't any clue you were a _cruel_ idiot."

"Calm down, Severus," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder and turned to face the three of them.

McGonagall followed the two men into the room looking almost as angry as her father.

_Shit!_

* * *

"I believe _you_ have an owl, Potter," McGonagall said after hearing the boys' story.

Hermione's shrill comment to Potter now made sense to Severus. He wondered if she even crossed either boy's mind as a possible solution to the problem, given their apparent inability of considering Dumbledore or McGonagall's ability to help. He wasn't satisfied with the explanation, but he didn't doubt it was truthful. This was nothing more than Potter showcasing his ineptitude in problem solving. He wondered why the barrier had been tampered with, but turned his thoughts to the situation at hand. McGonagall moved from livid to exasperated, and wouldn't even look at Hermione.

"We weren't thinking, Professor," Potter admitted.

"That," McGonagall said. "Is abundantly clear!"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore interjected. "Harry, it might be in your best interest to consider asking for help when faced with such issues. There will always be help for you at Hogwarts."

"I-I'm-" Potter stammered. "We're not expelled, sir?"

"No, Potter," McGonagall said. "You're not expelled. Though what you did was incredibly reckless. You three will be receiving detention. And I will be writing your parents."

That hardly seemed proportional. However, he couldn't say he was surprised. Nothing beyond violence that caused irreparable harm would earn them anything greater than a detention. Though it also meant he didn't have to go begging other schools to accept Hermione. The woman seemed to make herself a surrogate grandmother to the girl, and he doubted she would suffer expulsion for anything less than illegal.

"You also will be forgoing the feast tonight," McGonagall said. "I won't be having you parade into the Great Hall after that stunt."

"Erm, Professor," Weasley said. "My little sister, Ginny, started this year-"

"Sorting's already happened," McGonagall shrugged. "It won't come as a surprise to you that she was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Thank you."

 _Were the hell was that humility when you called Hermione brain-damaged?_ He turned his gaze to a very still and silent Hermione, the news she wasn't expelled didn't seem to relieve her in the slightest, her gaze didn't leave the floor since they entered the room. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard her say a word since he found them in the corridor. Though she must have said _something_ to Weasley to illicit such a comment.

"You three will sta-" McGonagall started.

"Actually," Severus interrupted. "I would like a word alone with my daughter. You can set the boys up elsewhere."

McGonagall, Potter and Weasley all looked at Hermione, who still made no indication she knew they were there, with palpable pity. What the hell did they think he was going to do to her? After everything his own father did, he couldn't bring himself to so much as spank her. And-thought it was an accident- he was still wracked with guilt over the head injury she sustained as a baby. _Though playing with her memory was fair game?_

"Very well," McGonagall clapped. "Follow me, boys."

Dumbledore lingered after McGonagall led the boys out, heads bowed in shame. He didn't like the way Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses, his blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight with a knowing gleam. He placed a hand on his shoulder like he did when Severus was a boy.

"I'm reminded of a nervous twelve-year-old boy who sat in my office about twenty years ago because he thought he was doing the right thing," he mused. "Don't be too hard on the girl."

"As always, headmaster, your input is appreciated," he said. "But I do believe I am capable of determining how to appropriately deal with my own child."

"Understood, Severus," Dumbledore sighed before casting his eyes toward Hermione for a moment before leaving.

 _Condescending bastard...No amount of respect I have for you will blind me to that._ He thought watching Dumbledore leave before shutting the door behind him and turning to Hermione, still trying her best to shrink away to nothing.

"You, young lady," he seethed. "Will explain yourself!" _  
_

"I, erm, I, erm,-"

" _Now!"_

She squeaked and flinched before stammering her way to something that resembled a sentence. "I thought if I could get them through unnoticed Professor McGonagall would be more willing to hear them out the morning after-"

"You little idiot," he strode over next to her. "Whatever decision she was going to make wasn't going to change with the passing of a single night. You've accomplished nothing!"

Hermione bit her lip and looked at the floor solemnly, her little face barely visible. He imagined she was very aware of that.

"Well, nothing other than getting yourself involved!" he snapped. "This could have been avoided if you hadn't leapt into to trouble in a feeble attempt to rescue them from their own stupidity. I want you to think about that, assuming you're even capable of forming your own thoughts!"

Hermione might have been replaced by a clay replica and he would have no idea. She maintained her bowed head over clasped hands and hunched over as small as she could make herself without making a sound. He wondered if she were retreating into her own head again, either for distraction or to find some way to smooth over the situation. _This is not at all what I was hoping for when we've finally got things back to normal..._

He let the silence pass between them and wondered just what the hell was going on inside that little head of hers. How could she have been so damn foolish as to try to aid them? Surely, she should have known how this would all pan out. Had she succeeded in getting them to Gryffindor Tower unnoticed, the whole school would have still talked, the article in _the Prophet_ would still exist what McGonagall's judgements would have remained unchanged. Though telling her all of this had the same effect as reprimanding her for trying to fix a broken jar when she was five. She knew what she did was incredibly stupid, perhaps knew in the moment that it was, and she couldn't help herself. Where did this impulse to fix everything at her own expense come from?

"You're right," Hermione finally spoke. "It was stupid. But I couldn't-if I could help and didn't, I'd be complicit in whatever happened to them."

"Complicit?" he scoffed. "Hermione, those boys brought what resulted upon themselves. And if you ask me, it wasn't nearly harsh enough. A single detention and a letter home for breaking the law. Had any other student pulled the same stunt they'd be expelled or at least suspended."

"Maybe they wouldn't be," Hermione said venturing eye contact. "You heard what they said about the barrier."

"Regardless of their reasoning," he sighed. "The severity of the situation should be impressed upon them. Which is exactly what I intend to do with you. Now, can you tell me why we hide from muggles?"

"Because muggles see us as a threat, outnumber us and the panic would lead to war." Hermione answered. "But I'm not sure I believe tha-"

"You should," he told her. "You've led an incredibly sheltered life, and as much as I believe it was for your own good, you were deprived of a very important life lesson. The world out there is cold, cruel and muggles and wizards are on constant brink of war with their own. Of course not all muggles would move to exterminate a people, but it would be easy for a handful of the wrong muggles to find out about us and whip up hysteria. If that happened, countless on both sides would die. I know you don't want that."

"No, sir," she choked. She had known all this before, but judging by her expression, it seemed to be the first time she _thought_ about it. "I don't think anyone does."

"You would be surprised," he said thinking about how eagerly some stoked the flames of war less than twenty years ago."There are _many_ who want that more than anything."

Hermione's face drained of colour and her eyes grew in size at that. He wasn't sure what she was picturing, but she seemed legitimately surprised that there would be some out there that would relish in such horrors.

He didn't know if twelve was too young to know such things, or if he'd done a great disservice not telling her earlier...

"I wish it were different, love," he placed a hand on her head and sat next to her. "I don't expect you to understand everything at your age, but you should know how dangerous one reckless act can be, not just for you, but for everyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes,sir," Hermione nodded.

"Hermione," he said before she left. "I don't want to hear any of your flimsy defences for those boys this year. I told you those boys were on thin ice and they _flew a car_ through it."


End file.
